


Good Graces, Bad Influences

by hedgehobbit



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Jean and Sasha are bffs and no one can take this from me, Jean's comfortable with his sexuality, M/M, Marco turns into a gay pothead, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, literally everyone is in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehobbit/pseuds/hedgehobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco become friends in school, even though Marco's a model student and Jean's definitely not. After they start hanging out more, Marco finds out Jean's actually a huge dweeb and gets adopted into Jean's ragtag group of gay asshole friends. Marco finds himself not only doing the same less-than-legal things as them, but also thinking of Jean more than a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

“Who are you texting?” Sasha grabbed his shoulders from behind, peeking over to try and look at his phone.

Jean defensively locked it, “Nobody, Jesus.”

“Nobody Jesus? That’s a weird name,” Connie said, smiling smugly at his own lame joke. Jean didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Connie’s kitchen was big, but it wasn’t big enough for all of them to fit comfortably. Jean had no idea why they always congregated in the room with the least sitting room. Krista was sitting in the corner of the counters, Ymir leaning against them beside her. Reiner and Bertie took the only two stools at the bar, and Sasha had just recently kicked Jean out of his spot leaning against the pantry so she could plunder through it.

“Seriously though,” Ymir said, “You’ve been on your phone all fucking night. Who are you texting, because last time I checked the only people that could stomach you were all in this room.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jean huffed, rolling his eyes at her, “It’s a dude in my English class, and he tolerates me just fine.”

“Does he do more than tolerate you?” Sasha asked, peeking out of the pantry and raising her eyebrows.

Connie snickered, and Jean rolled his eyes, “He’s a friend.”

Reiner propped his head up on his hands, “Is he a friend that could eventually be doing not so friendly-things? Sucking dick, for example.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” Jean said.

Ymir cupped her hands over her mouth, calling, “Boo!” to which Connie hit her with a bag of chips with an indignant, “hey!” Krista laughed as she threw the bag back at him.

Jean phone buzzed, and Jean checked his messages, the dumb nickname he had for him displayed at the top of the screen. If anyone saw he was texting “Freckles” they’d probably never let him live it down.

_“Yeah that essay’s not due until Monday. And I wish I was with friends :c I have to do Latin homework”_

Jean typed back a quick reply, _“Ha ha nerd”_ before he quickly added _“You could always ditch the hw and come hang w/ us.”_ He really only said this because he was positive the dude would decline.

Sasha whined from inside the pantry, “Connie, you don’t have any sweets.”

“Doesn’t pizza sound so good right now,” Connie responded, “We should order pizza.”

“I wish you could order ice cream,” Sasha huffed, stepping out of the pantry and shutting the door.

Bertie rubbed a bloodshot eye, “Do you guys know where I put my bowl?”

Connie shrugged, “Did you leave it on the coffee table?”

Bertie groaned, leaning forward on his crossed arms, “Reiner, can you go get it?”

Reiner made a face, “You go get it, you have two working legs.”

Bertie groaned again, “It’s so far away.”

Reiner patted his boyfriend’s back, “I believe in you, Bertl.”

Jean leaned back, watching in amusement as Bertie slowly lumbered to his feet, shuffling out of the room. Krista crossed her arms over her chest, chiding Reiner that he better be the one driving tonight.

“I’m not that lazy,” Reiner replied, just as Sasha sat down beside him.

Jean checked his phone, reading the message, “ _thanks but I have to get this done! Maybe some other time?_ ”

“Jean, who _is_ that?” Ymir insisted.

“We might know him!” Krista added, smiling.

“His name’s Marco,” Jean relented, praying to god they didn’t know him. Marco was on student council and was the president of like three clubs and probably didn’t even know how to correctly say marijuana. About the polar opposite of everyone in this room.

“Oh,” Connie nodded, “I know him, that freshman with red hair?”

Jean furrowed his brow, “Uh, no.”

“That’s Marco Martinez,” Sasha said, pointing at Connie, “He’s a dickhead.”

Connie shrugged, “I mean, they’re Jean texting so.”

Jean would’ve hit him if Connie hadn’t been across the room, “This is Marco Bodt.”

Krista tapped her fingers on the counter, pursing her lips, “I recognize the name, but I don’t know him.”

Ymir shrugged, probably because Ymir only cared to know and remember like fifteen people at the school. Reiner was watching them go back and forth, looking bored. He and Bertholdt had graduated two years ago, and the number of gossip-worthy people they knew at Trost High was very small.

“I’m going to go check on Bertie,” he said, standing and leaving the room.

Connie took his place, spinning absently on the barstool, “I hope he’s not smoking in the living room. Mom will most definitely smell it on the couch and shit.”

“Calm down, Connie,” Jean said, walking to lean against the bar, “They won’t be back for, what, two more days?”

Connie made a face, and all three of them looked over as Krista squealed. Ymir started laughing, holding out a finger and trying her best to get at Krista’s face.

“What,” Sasha stated, and Krista planted her foot on Ymir’s stomach, pushing her back, “She’s trying to pick my nose!”

Jean snickered, watching Ymir get kicked in the stomach and back away, huffing a laugh.

“You do that shit to Bertie,” Connie said, a faintly confused look on his face.

Ymir shrugged, walking around the bar to stand between him and Jean. Then she started trying to do it to him, and he made an undignified noise as he fell out of his chair. Sasha laughed at him.

Jean took the time to type out a reply to Marco, saying “ _Yea dude whenevers good for me._ ”

Ymir turned to Jean and he ducked away, side-stepping to stand by Krista, “Krissy, keep her away from me.”

Krista wrapped her arms around his head, “I gotchu, Jeany.”

Jean smiled smugly at Ymir, who stuck her tongue out at him. They heard a camera snap, and turned to Sasha and Connie automatically. They were snickering, and Connie announced, “We sent it to Eren.”

Jean curled his lip, “Ew. Don’t speak his name in my presence.”

Jean’s phone vibrated and he took it out, expecting a text from Marco but instead getting a snapchat from jaegar_bombb. Jean untangled himself from Krista, opening a picture of Eren’s blurry couch with the caption “Jeany-really?”

Jean took a selfie with Krista-who made an ugly face-and sent it to him with the caption “At least I have friends that give me nicknames”

Just as he sent he got a notification from Freckles, which Krista commented on, “Is that Marco?”

Jean nodded, a big embarrassed, “He’s got a shit ton of freckles, and at first I figured it’d be my best bet to remember who he was.”

“You really don’t text enough people for me to believe you wouldn’t remember who you gave your number to, Jean,” Krista said, bumping him with her shoulder.

“Shhhhh,” he told her, reading the text that said “ _How about after school, maybe Friday?_ ”

Jean looked up at his friends, Connie trying in vain to reclaim his barstool. Ymir was just leaning on her hands, smirking as Connie pushed and pulled on her.

“Connie, do you want something?” she asked.

“I want you out of my fucking seat, you asshole.”

Sasha shared a look with Jean, rolling her eyes.

“Where’s the two homos?” Jean asked, and Connie huffed, settling for standing by Sasha.

Connie shrugged, “You’re going to have to be more specific. There’s half a dozen in the house right now.”

“That’s literally everyone except you, Connie,” Sasha told him.

“Sounds about right.”

Jean rolled his eyes, walking and peeking into the living room, “Aw, Reiner, what the hell.”

Reiner lifted his eyes, putting the bowl on the coffee table and shrugging, letting out a cloud of smoke before saying, “Bertie didn’t tell me it was loud.”

“Connie,” Jean said in a suspiciously tattle-tale-esque voice, “Reiner and Bertie are going to have to sleep over.”

“No, what,” Connie said, walking into the living room, “Goddammit, Reiner, Krista told you that you had to dRIVE and you go and smoke pot in _my living room_ -”

Reiner started arguing with him, and Jean went back into the kitchen, “Reiner lives to piss Connie off, I think.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Ymir said, “He looks so funny with his eyes bugging out.”

Jean choked back a laugh, “Still.”

“I’m gonna kick Reiner’s ass,” Krista said, and Jean laughed imagining that-little bitty Krista smacking the shit out of Reiner was pretty funny. But if anyone could do it, it’d be Krista. Reiner practically let her walk all over him.

“ _Sounds good dude you wanna catch a ride home w/ me after English?”_ Jean typed back to Marco, before checking his snapchats and opening the one from jaegar_bombb that was Eren with his lip curled flicking off the camera, and then another from arlert-alert which was a black screen and “why are u both so rude” and several unamused emojis.

Jean sent one back to Armin, a picture of the fake bowl of fruit that was on Connie’s island, “he started it, mom.” Then he told Connie and Sasha to flick him off and took a picture of them and sent it to Eren, stating, “They’re on my side” even if they had no idea.

Jean looked up as Sasha started to play with his hair, “What are you doing.”

She shrugged, “You never fix it anymore. It always looks like you just rolled out of bed and didn’t touch it.”

“That’s what I do,” Jean grinned, brushing his fingers through it so it would stick out in all different directions.

Krista hopped off the counter, “I need to do it again. You can see your roots.”

“Cannot,” Jean said, “Quit poking fun at me.”

Sasha picked up his phone, “You have a snapchat from Eren.”

“What is it?” he asked, trying to fight off Krista’s fingers in his hair. She was saying something about his undercut being too grown out, too.

Sasha hummed, “It’s Mikasa reading a book and it says she’s on my side but you’re not important enough to…flick off? Flip off? Flick off, I think. He sucks at writing on the screen.”

“He sucks at everything,” Jean said.

“Jean, you’re going to have to come over to my place tomorrow. I can’t have you walking around with that hair,” Krista said. Jean groaned, leaning on the counter.

Connie walked back in then, looking vaguely discontented. Sasha offered him a hug which he leant into, making a pouty face.

Jean patted his shaved head, “It ok, child.”

Sasha grinned, rubbing his back, “It’ll be alright, little meme.”

“I hate you guys.”

“You two spend too much time on the internet,” Ymir commented. Krista was braiding her hair, and Jean was pretty sure she was the only one that could do that without getting severely injured. He guessed Krista got away with a lot nobody else could.

Jean checked his phone, seeing Marco had sent “ _Cool! B)_ ”

“Marco’s a nerd,” Jean said to no one in particular.

“He has to be if he talks to you,” Sasha commented.

Jean huffed, “God damn, guys, how many variations of that joke can you make.”

“A lot,” Ymir said, “It’s not helping that you practically walk into them.”

Jean blew air out of his nose, looking over at Sasha’s phone, “what time is it?”

“Nine forty,” Sasha answered.

“I think we should go,” Jean said, “I have to drop you off and shit.”

Sasha made a face, putting her phone in her pocket, “Fiiiiine.”

Connie frowned, “take Bert and Ernie with you.”

“No,” Jean said, “Plus their car’s here. I’d just have to drop them back off in the morning.”

Connie ran his index finger down his face like he was trailing a tear, and hugged Sasha bye. Jean fist-bumped him over the counter, saying bye to Ymir and Krista then walking into the living room. Bertholdt and Reiner were making out so Jean called a half-hearted bye that he knew wouldn’t be returned. God bless Connie for having to deal with both of them high.

“Holy shit, it’s cold,” Sasha said, trying to wrap her jacket tighter around her when they stepped outside.

Jean huffed, “it’s just the fucking wind. Cmon, let’s go.”

They got into Jean’s old jeep, driving through Connie’s nice little subdivision before getting on the bigger roads towards Sasha’s house. Sasha put on a classic rock radio station, drumming her fingers on the dash and singing along with Freddie Mercury.

It wasn’t really that far to her place, just in the opposite direction of Jean’s apartment. He slowed down and pulled into the trailer park, knowing the turns to take without a second thought. When her trailer came into view he slowed down, looking over the slightly rundown doublewide. The lights which were usually off shined through the thin curtains.

“Lights are on,” Jean commented.

“Mhm,” Sasha sighed, not moving.

“You could stay with me tonight,” he offered.

“He’ll be pissed,” she replied.

“Won’t he be pissed either way?”

Sasha looked at him, obviously chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“You’ve got clothes at my place,” Jean reminded her, “and you can take a shower in the morning.”

She breathed in, looking back to the house before nodding, “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

Jean let himself smile, driving past the house and circling back, turning the radio up and singing along very badly to the Beatles until Sasha laughed and told him to shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Title for this is taken from the song by The Spill Canvas
> 
> Also, Marco will definitely be more prevalent in the next chapters ;)
> 
> Shoutout to my bffs tumblr users anniecrystalqueen and nidorine for helping me get off my ass and write this :*
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and suggestions would be welcome!


	2. Nerds and Video Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marcy Marc hang out at Jean's hella cool pad and Marco has no comment on the decor and Jean's affronted his friend knows jack shit about video games

Mr. Bossard loved to talk. He would talk endlessly, and if it weren’t for Jean, Marco would probably hate the class a lot more. Their assigned seats together in the back of the room were perfect for Jean to make all the sarcastic comments about the teacher he wanted. And usually the teacher was too caught up in listening to himself speak that he didn’t notice Marco snickering.

Jean restlessly tapped his heel against the floor, obviously looking at the clock. Mr. Bossard talked until the bell rang, and usually wouldn’t let the class go until he’d given homework.

The teacher said there was no new homework but reminded them about the essay due Monday. After he called dismissal, Marco stood with the rest of the class and put his books in his bag.

“Alright, come on, hurry up,” Jean said, walking in the direction of the student parking lot. Marco had a hard time following him weaving through a swarm of other students, because where Jean just pushed them out of the way Marco found himself apologizing and trying to squeeze past.

Jean barely waited for him outside the school, just checking to see he hadn’t been lost and walking quickly to the left. He started to unlock the door on an older Jeep SUV, which was a dark blue and a little worse for wear.

“Cmon, you’re draggin’ ass, freckles,” Jean said, “We’re gonna get in a shit ton of traffic.”

Marco apologized, getting in the passenger seat with his book bag in his lap, not even getting his seat belt on before Jean pulled out and got in line with the rest of carpool.

“You got it?” Jean asked, looking over at him and grinning.

Marco smiled, nodding, “Sorry I was so slow. I don’t usually rush to the buses.”

Jean made a face, “Who would? They’re smelly and always either too hot or cold, and filled up with two assholes to a seat.”

Marco laughed a little, asking if he could put his book bag in the back before doing so. They had to wait about five minutes in the line, during which two girls walked in front of the jeep and Jean blew the horn at them. The taller, darker one flicked him off, the blonde one laughing and waving before jogging to catch up with the other.

Jean narrated the carpool wait, making fun of the principal who was out directing them, “Look at him. Look at him, Marco. He’s got a pole shoved so far up his ass he can feel it in his throat.”

“Mr. Smith isn’t so bad,” Marco said, laughing despite of himself, “He checks up on the student council like once a month.”

Jean scoffed, “You haven’t had to sit through a lecture leading up to ISS with him.” Jean puffed out his chest, lowered his voice in a mock-imitation, “’Mr. Kirstein, Trost High does not tolerate any sort of physical violence, and it is unbecoming of a young man.’ Pfft. He wouldn’t even hear what Jaegar did first. Look at his dumb fucking hair part. Looks like a little boy whose mom did his hair for picture day.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk about hair style decisions, Jean,” Marco said, barely containing his smirk.

Jean gasped, looking at him, “Marco, I can’t believe you said that. Hell, I can’t believe you said something even slightly disagreeable. Especially about _me._ ”

Marco laughed, “I was just joking, I promise. It looks better since you got the bottom shaved again.”

“Bluh. It’s cold as fuck, but I guess you’re right,” Jean tightened his fingers on the wheel, turning with the school road as the line started to move.

Once they got on the main road, Jean turned the radio up, nodding his head as he drove. Marco thought he kind of looked like a dork, but it was funny.

They drove through old Trost, which was a bit run down. Marco didn’t go often, and found all the stores he remembered from the area were gone or had been replaced.

“Didn’t that used to be a pizza joint?” he asked, pointing to a place with a gaudy sign advertising ‘Beer and Spirits.’ He’d never heard of alcohol being called spirits outside of a cowboy movie.

Jean nodded, “Yeah, I think like two years ago. No business usually stays around here long, they get broken into more than they get customers.”

Marco raised his eyebrows, looking at the spray paint on the side of the bar before they passed by.

It was a few more minutes, but Jean pulled into a parking lot with about three other cars in it. The sign at the entrance had said something along the lines of ‘Zoo Apartments’ which was definitely not the most appealing name for a complex.

The building itself reminded Marco of a motel, it was three stories high, made of brick, with the walkways all facing the parking lot. Each dark blue door had a number and a letter nailed to it, but some were missing. They really didn’t need it, because each floor only had two doors, which Marco assumed were apartments.

Jean got out, and Marco followed him. He figured it must be kind of scary to live in this part of town.

Jean got Marco’s book bag out of the back, giving it to him and leading to the concrete steps to the side of the building.

“I live in apartment 3,” Jean said, stepping over a crack in the stairs, “It used to be 3B, but one of my shithead friends pried the B off.”

“Oh,” Marco said, “That’s…unfortunate.”

Jean laughed, “It was a joke, and my landlord didn’t even notice.”

The apartment was the one farther away from the stairs, so it was closer to the road. Jean dug in his pockets and brought out a colorful keychain, putting a key with a blue ring around it in the door.

“Sorry if it’s a mess,” he said, grinning, “but welcome to la apartment de Kirstein.”

Jean stepped inside, toeing off his shoes and opening the door a bit wider so Marco could fit inside. Marco followed his lead and took off his converse, looking around.

It opened into a living room, with a kitchen to the left, and a hallway opened up on the far right side. There were posters hanging on the walls, pictures tacked over them instead of in frames. The furniture was all mismatched, a dark brown couch sandwiched between an armchair that looked like it belonged in the 1920s and a loveseat that Marco wouldn’t trust to hold his book bag. They was a big, boxy tv set on the floor in front of them, a game console stacked on top of it. The coffee table was either designed to look beaten up, or had had a long life. Behind the living area was a sliding glass door that opened into a small balcony.

Jean looked at him and laughed, “You like it? I work really hard on the interior design.”

Marco offered a shaky smile, “O-oh, it’s, ah, nice!”

“You are the worst liar I have ever met,” Jean pushed him lightly in the shoulder, “It’s fine, I know it’s ugly as hell.”

There were a lot of windows around the room, and none of them had curtains, so it at least wasn’t dark. Jean wandered into the kitchen, and Marco followed. The only thing really separating it from the living room was a counter that stretched about halfway to the opposite wall. Marco didn’t see a dining table. The apartment was certainly big enough for one, but most of the space was pretty empty.

“I take it this was not what you were expecting,” Jean said, leaning to look in a fridge that was probably older than Marco’s house.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Marco said, “It’s just a bit different.”

Jean shrugged, looking at him over the refrigerator door, “Hey, are you hungry?”

Marco shrugged.

“Are you hungry, or not?”

He shrugged again. Jean narrowed his eyes at him, shutting the fridge door and opening the freezer.

“Oh, hell yes,” Jean said, “There’s chicken nuggets in here. You like those, right?”

Marco nodded, and Jean nodded in return, and he put them on a pan and popped them in the oven.

“Man, relax,” Jean said, “Ever since we walked in here you’ve been all hells weird.”

Marco apologized, and Jean punched him in the shoulder.

“Make yourself at home, freckles,” Jean told him, turning and pulling himself up on the counter, “Hey, after the food’s done, you wanna play Call of Duty?”

He shrugged and Jean groaned, “I swear to God, Marco.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Marco said, smiling, “I don’t really know how to play, though.”

“Not a big fan of COD? Me neither, really, but the zombies are so much fun to play,” Jean said, “Do you know Playstation controls?”

Marco shook his head.

“Oh,” Jean said, “Do you have an Xbox, then?”

“No,” Marco said.

“Do you even play video games?”

“Not…really,” Marco admitted, “I play apps on my phone sometimes, but other than that, no.”

Jean stared at him for a minute, before leaning his head against the cabinet behind him, “Well, I know what we’re doing today. And then if zombies aren’t your thing, I’ve got this awesome racing game, and you can set all the other drivers to whatever car you want, so I set them all to motorcycles. And then I play as either a monster truck or another motorcycle, so I can either run them over or knock them off. It’s so much fun, dude.”

“The last video game I played was Spyro,” Marco said thoughtfully.

Jean turned to look at him, his eyes getting a bit wider, “Dude! Spyro was the fucking best!”

“I was never any good at flying through the rings, though,” Marco added.

Jean laughed, “Me neither. I did like running around and ramming those little shitheads with the eggs though. Remember those, and they’d be like nananana at you, oh, seven-year-old me would get so pissed.”

Marco laughed at Jean’s imitation of them, and they talked idly about old video games for a while, Jean trying to bring Marco up to date on all the games that were currently good or bad.

They ate the chicken nuggets straight off the pan, which Marco mentioned would’ve caused his mother to have a conniption. Jean laughed, stating the entire apartment would probably do that.

Marco sort of awkwardly watch Jean wash the pan, and then followed him into the living room.

“Take a seat, man,” Jean said, turning on the TV and console, so Marco chose the couch since it was probably the most reliable. Marco sunk comfortably into the cushions, surprised at how good the couch sat.

Jean sat down beside him, handing him a controller before he set up the game, saying, “This is the first Black Ops. The multiplayer sucked, but the campaign was alright. The zombies are the best part, if you ask me.”

“Uh, I guess I’ll agree?” Marco said unsurely, absently flicking the knobs near the bottom of the controller.

Jean leaned over, showing him how to shoot and knife, “You should really only knife the early zombies. Oh, yeah, they get harder to kill the longer you play. Also you have to rebuild barriers so they can’t all just flood in. And this button is crouch, and this is jump, hold this down to run, okay?”

“Uh, okay,” Marco said, pressing the buttons like that’d help him remember.

Three minutes into the match he really didn’t remember anything. Jean’s character was apparently John F. Kennedy, which Marco didn’t exactly understand, and his own character was apparently Castro. Why Castro and JFK would fight zombies together, he didn’t know, but it was a video game so he went with it.

He had to be revived three times before the second round ended, and Jean killed most of the zombies, and told him he hadn’t broken the glass very well on his doors, and Marco apologized and tried to just run around and tell Jean were the zombies were. More than once he accidentally thought Jean’s screen was his own.

They stopped playing after three rounds, Jean saying he did okay for his first time.

“You could probably beat my friend, Ymir. She hates this game,” he said, patting his shoulder lightly.

 Marco put his controller down, “That was pretty fun, even if I wasn’t so good.”

“Okay, Pacific Rift is easier to play. You just mash the gas and steer. You can do that.”

Marco could not do that.

After three respawns he still managed to wreck his racecar even if everyone else, including Jean, was a motorcycle.

“Run them _over_ , Marco!” Jean shouted.

“Oh my gosh, no, that’s horrible,” Marco replied, crashing into a tree.

Jean fell over, laughing, “Oh my _god_ , you’re a _dweeb_.”

Marco cracked a smile, “No, I’m just not as mean as you.”

“You’re in last place,” Jean told him, “Have you even made one lap?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jean laughed again, and after a moment, there was a motorcycle circling around his car. Marco ran it over, and Jean snorted, doing it again after he respawned.

They spent the next ten minutes dicking around, Jean once succeeding in getting his motorcycle on top of Marco’s car, to which Marco mashed the nitrous and both of them rammed into a cliff face.

After about an hour and three more different tracks, Marco was comfortable enough with the controls to actually race. He made number three with all the opponents on easy, and Jean made dead last because he kept launching himself into lava.

Jean flopped back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, “Incredible. Do you have a lot of homework this weekend?”

Marco shook his head, “I already finished my Latin for the week, and I got the essay done.”

“You already did the essay?” Jean asked, “Shit, I haven’t started.”

“Oh my gosh, Jean, you probably should,” Marco huffed.

Jean shrugged, “I’ll do it before Monday. Probably.”

Marco rolled his eyes, settling into the couch just as Jean asked, “What kind of music do you like?”

Marco hummed, “Um, I like Mumford and Sons, and stuff like that. Daft Punk is cool, too.”

Jean clapped, “Hell yeah, dude.”

“What about you?” Marco asked.

“I like whatever. I listen to what my friends listen to, usually. I like classic rock, and pop.”

“Those are a bit different,” Marco commented, and Jean cracked a smile.

They talked for a while, Marco asking about the pictures and posters on the wall behind the TV, and Jean told him the story behind every ugly selfie of people Marco didn’t know, and the poster he’d somehow managed to take from this Jaegar kid’s room, just to annoy him. That seemed a little extreme to Marco, but Jean kept talking about all the different things he and his friends had done and Marco couldn’t even compete. His friends usually just hung out at the mall or after school in clubs.

After he said this, Jean responded, “Well, duh. Hanging out with squares like Thomas Wagner? Pfft, I’m surprised you haven’t died of boredom.”

“Hey, Thomas is okay,” Marco defended, but it wasn’t exactly _wrong_.

“You should hang out with me more often, and I can coach you on how to be less of a dork,” Jean said, placing his hand on his chest like someone important would.

“You’re the one that likes Call of Duty,” Marco countered.

Jean narrowed his eyes at him, “Touché.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B) man can't wait for this to get hella homo


	3. Nerds and Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the cuties hang at the mall and bond over candles and weed plugs

“I haven’t been to Shinganshina in forever,” Jean said, turning onto the off-ramp where Marco told him to. The traffic wasn’t light, but not enough for Jean to get frustrated.

Marco pointed at the intersection, “Stay straight at the light, okay? Then take that little right up there and you’ll be in the parking lot.”

Jean did just that, circling around the parking lot surrounding the huge mall before settling with a parking spot near the entrance of a department store. The Shinganshina shopping district was pretty big, and the mall was the center of it all. Jean rarely went, because of how expensive it was, but it was fun if all of his friends went with him. They usually got kicked out of most of the stores, though, and once out of the entire mall itself.

He and Marco had been hanging out pretty regularly for a few weeks, and Marco had insisted on going somewhere this weekend. He guessed his apartment did get pretty boring sometimes.

“It’s getting warmer!” Marco said happily, holding his arms out.

Jean shook his head, even though he was smiling, “Alright, Sound of Music. You gonna start singing about spring time?”

“Maybe,” Marco said, dropping his arms and walking beside him, “I think it’d sound better than you singing along to the radio.”

“Wow, rude,” Jean huffed playfully, “I could totally leave your ass here.”

Marco laughed, “You’re always so grumpy. Cmon, let’s go in.”

The department store was one of those boring ones that was trying to reform and target a younger audience yet still screamed elderly woman. They walked through it casually, Jean sometimes pointing out an ugly blouse to Marco, who’d make a face at nearly all of them.

It didn’t take them long to navigate through it and leave. The actual mall was two stories high, the walkways wide and bright thanks to a large glass ceiling. Vendors sold various things in the center of the bottom floor, shops lined up on either side. Further down, a fountain bubbled between and behind a pair of escalators.

“Oh, what,” Jean said, looking at the fountain, “They didn’t even have a fountain when I came here last.”

Marco hummed, “It’s been here awhile, actually. Where do you want to go?”

Jean shrugged, looking around, “I dunno. Wherever. You’re the mall expert.”

“I usually just go to the bookstore,” Marco said, “but we managed to park at the entrance furthest away from it. Which is fine, we can just go to more shops, I guess.”

Jean nodded, starting to walk when Marco did, them both falling to the right side. They passed by most of the shops, but Jean did pull Marco over to a cell phone case vendor, snickering at a pig phone case.

Jean ducked into a bath and body works store, ignoring the employee that greeted them to go straight to the candles. He heard Marco answer for him, before coming to stand nearby.

“Jean, are you going to smell every candle in the store?” Marco asked.

Jean looked at him, purposefully pointing the candle in his hands at his friend, “If you’ll let me. I haven’t even seen you sniff one. Look, this one’s my favorite.”

He held out a light tan candle, and Marco bent down a little to get his nose closer. Jean nodded as Marco’s expression changed, “See?”

Marco’s eyebrows raised, “It smells just like cookies or something.”

“Warm vanilla sugar,” Jean corrected, a smile on his face. He put it back picking up another one. Marco looked at the labels, picking one up that said ‘Beach House.’ Jean went for the one beside it, both of them smelling it at the same time.

“Wow,” Marco said, looking at the candle wick, “This smells just like a beach house.”

“Well, duh,” Jean answered, a laugh in his voice. He bent down to smell the candle in Marco’s hand, finding himself surprised. He figured it would just smell like sand or salt, but it actually smelt like a beach house itself-sort of musky and it instantly reminded Jean of Ymir’s parent’s trailer on the coast.

“Hm,” Jean said, holding out his instead, “This one smells supposedly like ‘Beach Wood’.”

Marco snickered, his mouth in a shaking smile like he was trying not to laugh. Jean looked around before realizing why he was laughing and making a disappointed sound, “You’re actually twelve years old, you know that?”

Marco shrugged, still smiling as he picked up another candle, looking at it and laughing again.

“What?” Jean asked, a smile on his face just because Marco’s laugh was kind of infectious.

He held the jar up, displaying a label and saying, ‘Birthday Cake’ before he started to tilt the jar to a unheard rhythm saying in time, “Come and put your name on it, put your name on it.”

It took Jean a minute before he got the reference to the Rihanna song, leaning back with his laughter. He straightened up, turning three of the dessert candles toward Marco, before singing, “Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake,” and shaking his shoulders in a small dance.

Marco laughed outright, clapping his hand over his mouth but not before several people in the store looked over with slightly annoyed expressions. A nearby employee asked them if they needed anything.

“No, we were just leaving!” Jean said, holding up his hands and dragging Marco out of the store.

Marco was still giggling when they were walking away, and Jean nudged him with his elbow, “How come you’re never this chill at school, dude? That was hilarious.”

Marco shrugged, his smile still wide, “I dunno. People at school aren’t as easy to be around as you are, I guess.”

That made Jean genuinely smile, before he turned it into a smirk, putting his hands on his hips, “Of course I’m easy to be around. I’m _me._ ”

Marco snorted, pushing him and making him stumble a few feet to the left, “Please, you’re a huge loser.”

They continued to joke around before the mall came to an intersection, Marco looking at him expectantly. Jean looked down to the right, seeing a familiar store title over a door just a little ways down.

He pointed it out, “Hey, let’s go in Flashback.”

“What’s that?” Marco asked.

Jean shrugged, “It’s this cool store, and they sell t-shirts and posters and stuff. And they’re all really cool.”

“Alright,” Marco responded, “Lead the way.”

Flashback had about four rows of racks that looked to be exclusively T-shirts, the front of them that were near the entrance had displays in front of them, showing holographic pictures and jackets. Poster racks were on the back and left wall, a glass counter filled with jewelry and the check out to the right.

A rock song played semi-quietly, and Jean started looking through the racks. Most of the shirts were black, from what Marco could see, and there were sections tagged off by band.

“It’s all band shirts?” Marco asked.

“Nah, they’ve got TV shows, and back there, there’s a whole comic rack. Look, over there’s Daft Punk,” Jean pointed across the aisle, watching Marco start to flip through the shirts in the section.

Jean looked at the price of a Marina and the Diamonds shirt, eyes going wider when he saw it was twenty five dollars. “Jesus,” he muttered, loud enough for Marco to hear, “Last time I was here the shirts were usually eighteen dollars.”

Marco looked at him over his shoulder, shrugging.

Jean kept looking through the shirts, Marco doing the same. They were the only ones in the store besides the person behind the counter. He eventually got tired of looking at cool shit he couldn’t afford, and started to look at the body jewelry beneath the glass. They had eyebrow jewelry similar to his, and rings, too. Jean never wore rings in his piercing, he was terrified of it getting ripped out-even if Connie told him it’d leave such a cool scar. Connie was kind of a dumbass.

Jean looked at the gauges just out of curiosity. His ear piercings weren’t stretched, all of them just silver horseshoes. Bertie had them, though, which is what Jean immediately thought when he saw the clear, black-rimmed gauges with a weed leaf stamped in the middle.

He snapchatted a picture of them to Reiner, ignoring the look the person gave him from behind the counter. He typed out, “bert would love these.” Before he wandered over to stand with Marco.

He was looking through posters on the other side of the room, and Jean was vaguely amused by how he obviously flipped faster when he saw a nearly naked woman. Jean pointed out ones he thought were cool, Marco sometimes agreeing and others disagreeing. He didn’t seem hesitant in the least to shoot down Jean’s admiration for the poster of the kittens in suits smoking.

Jean checked his phone when it buzzed in his pocket, getting a snap back from braun69, with the caption “I will pay u ten whole money to get those 4 him.”

Jean texted Bertie, asking him what size his plugs were and getting a reply back instantly. He was probably playing that dumb cat game on his phone when he was supposed to be working-again. After he got the answer, he slipped his phone back in his pocket and left Marco to finish looking through the posters as he went back to the jewelry.

“Hey, how much are those?” Jean asked, pointing at the plugs he wanted.

The person sighed, popping their gum and walking over, “Ten dollars.”

 “Can I get a pair of double zeros,” Jean asked, and the employee did that, bringing them to the cash register and asking if that was all.

“Hey, Freckles,” Jean called, turning. Marco looked at him expectantly, and he continued, “Do you wanna buy anything?”

Marco shook his head, making his way over as the worker gave Jean his total, “$20.65”

Jean looked at them, “You just said they were ten dollars.”

“For one.”

“Who only has one gauge?” Jean asked, huffing.

“A lot of people,” the responded, shrugging.

“Who can afford fucking twenty dollars for a set of jewelry?” Jean huffed to himself taking out his wallet and handing over a twenty and a one dollar bill.

The worker shrugged again, “A lot of people.”

Jean gave them a sour look, and they gave Jean the gauges in a very small ziplock bag, and Jean took them, not bothering to say thank you so Marco did.

Jean asked which way they were going, and Marco pointed him in the direction of the bookstore. They started to walk, and Marco asked, “Can I see?”

Jean handed the bag to him, “Yeah, sure.”

Marco thumbed over the little cylinders as they walked, before he asked, “Do you smoke?”

Jean looked at him out of the corner of his eye before flicking his eyes back forward, “Uh, yeah. But those aren’t for me.” He messed with the small jewelry in his own ear, showing how small they were in comparison.

“I figured,” Marco said, smiling as he handed them back. Jean smiled back, glad Marco hadn’t jumped into a tangent about pot being terrible for you-that was nothing Jean didn’t know.

Jean put the gauges in his pocket, following Marco because he sure as hell didn’t know where the bookstore was. They ducked into F.Y.E. for a minute, Jean mostly messing with the magnets on their display while Marco flipped through different CDs. He got his music off the internet-he had to really like a band to actually buy their songs.

They eventually got to Barnes and Noble, and Jean followed Marco through the books. Marco was pretty quiet, picking up a novel and reading the back before putting it back down.

“Do you read a lot?” Jean asked, picking up a book with some disfigured face on the front and flipping the pages before setting it back down.

Marco shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. What about you?”

“I mean, I read books that teachers assign and stuff. Sometimes Sasha makes me read something,” Jean replied, watching as Marco tucked a book under his arm and moved to another aisle.

“Do you just not have the time or don’t know what you want to read, or just don’t care for it?” Marco asked.

“I guess a little of all three?” Jean said, “I guess a book could help with being bored all the time.”

Marco looked at him over his shoulder, “I could recommend some, if you want. Or let you borrow some of mine.”

Jean opened and closed his mouth, before settling for saying, “Uh, okay, sure. But I can’t, like, promise I’ll read them?”

Marco beamed, stacking another book on top of the one he already had picked out, “Awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after i wrote this i tried looking up the Flashback website and i think the mall i go to might be the only mall that has one sweats nervously
> 
> also i have the kittens smoking poster. i have that. its mine.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! <3


	4. Nerds and the Bara Weed Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco are hanging out when Reiner shows up wanting to smoke, Jean shows Marco a cartoon, and Marco is just generally curious about hte pot. Also Reiner's bf is the bara weed king and Bertie is exasperated with his friends, as usual. also my hc bertie is hella tall and indian come fight me

Jean looked at the books fanned out across the coffee table, then to Marco’s smiling face.

The trip to the mall had been about four days ago, and now Marco coming over to Jean’s after school (when he didn’t have club meetings or something) was a pretty regular thing. He’d just brought a lot of his books with him today.

“There’s no way I can read all of these, dude,” Jean said, shaking his head and gesturing at them.

Marco shrugged, “That’s okay, but I wanted to give you a lot to choose from. I brought most of my favorites, sorry they’re so worn down. I’ve never been so good at keeping them in good condition.”

Jean looked over them, scanning the titles, “The Hobbit’s really thin for them to be splitting it up into three movies.”

Marco breathed in, “Well, they're also adding stuff from Tolkein’s other works into it, and this is really the last time they’re going to be going into the whole Middle Earth thing, and a lot of things do happen in this book, even if it’s not really thick.”

Jean blew out a lungful of air, “Okay, I’ll read this. Maybe. If you ever want it back, don’t hesitate to ask, you know.”

Marco nodded, “You can pick out some more if you want.”

Jean shook his head, “No, no, I’d feel bad-“

“I’ve already read them all, and have plenty more at home-“

“Still, I’ll just take this one and it’ll be fine,” Jean said, holding out his hand to Marco in finality, starting to stack the books up again. Marco helped, then they pushed the stacks together in the center of the coffee table.

Jean tapped The Hobbit against his knee, “I’m going to put this in my room, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Marco nodded, and Jean walked down the hall. Marco moved the books so the stacks were even, trying to smooth down the covers of the top two and not succeeding. He picked one up and flipped it over just as the front door opened. It startled him so bad the book he knocked the book he’d been messing with off the table.

He looked at the man standing in the doorway, his heart still pounding. He was huge, muscular, and looked really angry. If Marco had been someone to scream when they’re scared, he would’ve screamed.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man asked, his voice gruff and the tone edged with irritation.

“Marco?” the answer came out as an unsure squeak, which would probably be embarrassing if he wasn’t so confused and frightened.

The man furrowed his brow, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and leaving a dirty streak, “Is Jean here?”

Marco pointed down the hall, still unsure about him. The man was sweaty, his white shirt covered in dirt and what looked like paint streaks, the same going for his cargo shorts and work boots.

Marco was about to ask something, anything, when the man yelled, “Jean!” and made Marco jump. The man looked at him funny, and a slightly muffled, “Yeah?” was heard from the back of the apartment.

“You know that Mary Jane you owe me?” the man yelled back, “I’ve come to collect dues!”

Marco was reminded vaguely of mob movies, and how the mafia made good on debts that weren’t paid back, but shushed himself because that wasn’t real life. The guy was just a friend of Jean’s, probably.

Jean rounded the corner, stopping when he saw the man, “Woah, dude, you look like shit.”

“You don’t fucking say?” was the reply, “I thought I was on my goddamn way to a beauty pageant.”

Jean made a face, “Jeez, someone pissed in your cornflakes.”

“Yeah, my fucking boss. I’m not getting paid this week because of some bullshit back-up problem in reception. I have worked for nine hours fucking painting and then digging footings and then sanding floors, and then fucking Nile tells me that shit? Yeah, someone did piss in my fucking cornflakes and he’s got a shitty haircut and stupid facial hair.”

Jean nodded, “Well. Reiner, this is Marco.”

Reiner looked at Marco again, Marco trying to close his mouth and instead just looking at Jean before waving weakly to his friend. Reiner looked at him again, lifting the bottom of his shirt and wiping his face on it before taking it off.

“Yeah, he said,” Reiner huffed, rolling the shirt up.

“Don’t dare throw that on my floor, that’s gross as hell,” Jean warned, before saying in a less affronted voice, “Marco, meet Reiner. I’m sorry he’s got the fucking mannerisms of a wild bear.”

“Uh,” Marco responded.

“I’m taking a shower,” Reiner announced, walking by them.

Jean watched him until he turned the corner, and turned back to Marco, shaking his head, “Sorry, really. My friends just sort of come to my house whenever they want. And never ask. Or knock. Reiner’s really a nice person, just kind of ornery if he’s had a bad day. He’ll be better after his shower.”

Marco nodded, “He just, kinda scared me is all.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jean said, “Busting in my house like he’s got no sense, being rude and shit.”

“It’s okay,” Marco said, smiling, “It’s kind of funny. Sucks he had a bad day.”

“Yeah,” Jean nodded, tapping his fingers on his knee.

They didn’t talk much for the next few minutes, and Jean put on Netflix, which he had instead of regular cable. Jean was affronted when he learned Marco hadn’t ever watched Adventure Time, so that settled what they watched. Jean laughed at Marco’s slightly confused face, typing on his phone as the dog stretched through a maze with small hotdog warriors on his back.

“I don’t…this is weird, Jean,” Marco said, after ten minutes of watching.

Jean laughed, “It’s a cool show, I swear. It’s a little trippy sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Marco repeated, looking at Jean like he was kind of stupid.

They were still watching it, Marco getting more and more perplexed by the minute, when Reiner got out of the shower. He carried his dirty clothes and towel past them and into the kitchen, and Marco didn’t understand why until he opened the bi-fold doors that Marco had always assumed was a pantry, but was actually a mini laundry room.

After he put his clothes up, Reiner plopped down in the chair to the left of the couch, nearest to Jean. He shook his hands over his hair, which was short and blonde, and water drops flew everywhere.

“Thanks,” Jean said sarcastically.

“Welcome,” Reiner returned, grinning.

“I take it you feel better after your shower,” Jean commented, and Reiner nodded.

He leaned forward in the old chair, looking at Marco, “Sorry I was being an ass earlier. Hi, Marco, I’m Reiner.”

Marco smiled, “It’s nothing, hi, Reiner, nice to meet you.”

The blonde smiled, clapping his hands together, “Okay, who’s ready to smoke?”

“I can’t,” Jean said.

Reiner’s face fell, “Whaaat. Why?”

“I’ve got to take Marco home,” Jean shrugged, tucking his legs under him.

Reiner scoffed, “Bertie can take him home. He’s going to pick me up when he gets off work anyway.”

“Nah, I’ll smoke another time,” Jean said, waving him away, “But you can go get it. It’s in the cabinet right above the silverware drawer.”

Reiner made a pouty face, but got to his feet.

Jean looked at Marco, and Marco looked away from the TV where he’d been pretending to watch the cartoon, “Are you alright with that?”

“Huh? Of course, it’s your apartment. I’m sorry you’ve got to drive.”

Jean pushed him over, causing a smile to form on Marco’s lips, “Oh, shut up. I’m serious, I can take you home right now if you don’t want to be around it.”

Marco shook his head-he didn’t really want to go home, and Jean wasn’t smoking either, so it’s not like he’d be the only sober one. Jean didn’t drive high, that was a relief, and he was pretty thoughtful of his friend. Marco was really very grateful.

“I’m fine,” Marco insisted, “Thanks for asking, though, really.”

Jean shrugged, turning to the TV, “The least I could do.”

Reiner came back, and scooted the chair closer to the coffee table. Marco watched him break a bigger piece into smaller bits, using the back of his pinkie to brush them into a pile. He set a thick pipe he’d had in his lap on the table, using the pad of his finger to put the weed into one end of it.

He looked up, grinning when he saw Marco watching him, “What, you want a hit, Marco?”

Marco shook his head without really thinking, “No, I’ve just never seen somebody, uh, do that.”

Reiner raised his eyebrows, “Jean’s never packed the bowl with you?”

“No,” Marco said, “We don’t smoke.”

Reiner gave Jean a look, saying, “That’s weird, Jean’s like, the biggest pothead I know.”

Jean barked a laugh, “Oh my god, I’m the biggest pothead you know? Have you met yourself? Or any of our friends? I can hardly take that title, Reiner.”

Reiner cracked a grin, “Okay, like fourth biggest pothead.”

“Only reason is that I thought you, uh, wouldn’t be okay with it,” Jean said, looking at Marco and shrugging, “I mean it’s late now, but you can always just ask, you know. If you want. Only if you want.”

Marco shrugged in return, “I, uh, don’t know.”

Reiner laughed, and they both turned to look at him, “You two are adorable. Have you ever smoked, like, ever, freckles?”

Marco shook his head, “My parents would murder me.”

“Well, we can’t all have rad moms,” Reiner said, “You just have to know how to hide it from them.”

“Reiner, you are a terrible, terrible adult influence,” Jean told him, putting his arm around Marco, “Trying to corrupt such a wonderful young man. How dare you try and persuade him to inject the mare-a-ja-wana.”

Marco and Reiner laughed, and Reiner patted his pockets before pulling out a lighter. Reiner looked out of the corner of his eye at Adventure Time, “The motherfuckers that make that show are on some good fucking kush.”

“It is a good show,” Jean insisted, putting an emphasis on each syllable.

Reiner shrugged, “Didn’t say it wasn’t,” before putting the bowl up to his lips. Marco watched, whereas Jean went back to watching the TV. The blonde tilted the lighter until the flame touched the substance inside, Reiner’s cheeks hallowed out.

He took it away, parting his lips and breathing the smoke in his mouth in through his nose and holding it in for a moment before exhaling, trying to aim away from the couch, from what Marco could tell.

“That’s cool,” Marco said, without really thinking.

“What?” Reiner said.

“You breathed it in from your mouth,” he said.

Reiner shook his head, “Nah, little dude. I don’t even notice doing that-you should see Bertie’s smoke tricks.”

“Oh my god,” Jean turned to Marco, “If you ever do want to smoke, do it with Bertie here. His smoke tricks are so fucking cool.”

Reiner nodded slowly, “If he wasn’t fucking driving me home, he could show you when he picks me up.”

“Sasha calls him the bara weed king,” Jean added, “His title is highly esteemed.”

Marco thought that sounded pretty impressive, but asked, “What’s bara mean?”

Reiner and Jean both looked at him, their expressions blank before Reiner started to crack up, his laugh overwhelming the sound of the TV. Jean joined in, laughing so hard he sounded like he had hiccups when he started to heave for breath.

Reiner had to wipe literal tears from his eyes before he could say, “Oh, god you have so much to learn, grasshopper.”

“Am I missing something?” Marco said, feeling kind of stupid.

Jean shook his head, patting him on the back, “Believe me, you’re not missing anything.”

“You’re missing _everything_ ,” Reiner contradicted, bringing the bowl back up to his lips.

Marco eyed them suspiciously, and Jean shook his head, having to hide his smile behind his hand. That only served to make Marco more suspicious.

Reiner started to laugh again, letting out a cloud of smoke and starting to cough. Marco asked if he was okay, and he hit himself on the chest, nodding.

“Ask Bertie what it means when he comes in,” he said when he stopped his coughing fit.

Jean laughed again, rolling his head back against the couch, “I will pay you money to ask Bertie what bara means. I will pay you so much money, Marco.”

“Alright, then,” Marco said, crossing his arms, “I will. Will he think I’m stupid if I do? You’re not playing a joke, right?”

Jean laid a hand on his shoulder, “We’re playing a joke, just not on you. It’d be best if you could do it, just, like when he’s nervous.”

“Please do,” Reiner said.

“Well, I don’t want to be mean to him,” Marco said, “I don’t even know him.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Reiner said, pointing the bowl at him, “Bertie’s chill as fuck, and he deals with me every day. You’ll be fine.”

Jean nodded, “You’ll like Bertie. You just have to look through his awkwardness.”

Reiner lifted the bowl up to his lips, and Jean turned back to the TV, putting his feet on the coffee table. Marco settled back on the couch, half watching Reiner blow smoke toward the ceiling. It wasn’t five minutes until his phone rang, his ringtone some pop song that Marco half-recognized.

Reiner grinned smugly at them, the smile wide and easy as he answered it, “Baby, hello. Yeah, I’m at Jean’s. He’s got a friend here. Yeah. Okay. See you soon, then. I love you. Bertie. Bert.”

Reiner frowned at them, “He didn’t tell me he loved me before he hung up.”

“What a tragedy,” Jean said.

Marco looked at Reiner’s pout, blurting without thinking, “are you dating?”

“More like married,” Jean answered for him.

Reiner flicked something at Jean, which missed and landed on the floor, “Jean’s just jealous. Yeah, we’re dating.”

“Deyr high school swee-harts,” Jean said, pursing his lips out and blinking his eyes quickly.

Marco looked at the ridiculous display before he dissolved into laughter, Reiner rolling his eyes behind Jean’s head.

It wasn’t long before the man in question knocked on the door, and Jean got up to let him in. Bertie had to tilt his head to avoid hitting the top of the door frame he was so tall. He was kind of lanky, with dark skin and black hair that just barely touched his collar. It hung in his eyes, a slight wave in the longer pieces. He was wearing some sort of uniform, which consisted of a dark blue polo and khaki pants.

“Bertie, that’s Marco, Marco, this is Berholdt,” Jean said, closing the door behind the much taller guy. He had to at least be 6’5.

Bertie raised a hand in a wave, “Hey, Marco.”

“Hey,” Marco smiled as he came to sit in the rickety loveseat. He was surprised it didn’t collapse under him.

Bertie smoothed his bangs down, flattening them farther into his eyes until he took his hand away, “Hey, Reiner.”

“You didn’t say I love you on the phone,” Reiner accused, right away.

Bertie looked sideways at Marco, “Uh, sorry? I hung up when you said see you soon. How was your day?”

Reiner made a sour face, “Nile was being a complete asshole today. I won’t get paid until next week.”

“Oh,” Bertie said, scratching his arm. Jean plopped down beside Marco, handing him a glass of soda that he hadn’t asked for. Jean scooted into the corner of the couch, tucking his knees in and watching the couple complain.

“But other than that it’s been okay,” Reiner said, “I got to meet Marco, and he’s pretty cool. A lot cooler than Jean, actually.”

“That is exactly why I didn’t get you a drink,” Jean spat.

Marco smirked behind the rim of his cup, putting it down to say, “That’s a nice thing to say, Reiner, but I think we all know that’s not a hard feat to accomplish.”

“I can’t believe I shared my can of Pepsi with you,” was Jean’s reply after Reiner’s laughter died down. He was frowning overdramatically, making his face even longer which made Marco laugh. Reiner leaned over and offered Marco a high-five, which he proudly accepted.

Marco noticed Bertie’s ears, which had baby blue plugs in them, asking, “Are you the one Jean got those gauges for?”

Bertie looked at him, reaching up to tug on his ears, “Oh, the weed plugs? Yeah. I can’t wear them at work, though.”

“And I paid Jean back for them,” Reiner said, like he was stating something critical, “So technically I got them for him.”

“Of course,” Marco agreed, just as Bertie reached forward, asking Jean for some of his drink. Jean handed it over, and Bertie thanked him. Marco was wondering why Bertie didn’t get his own when he suddenly remembered something and asked, “Bertie, what’s a bara?”

Bertie did not disappoint, a loud choking sound coming from his throat as he sputtered and struggled to put the glass on the coffee table before he started to cough, “Do-wha?” Jean and Reiner lost it, Jean clapping his hands together as he laughed.

“What’s a bara,” Marco repeated, “They told me to ask you, and said that you were like king of them or something.”

Bertie looked slightly horrified, looking accusingly at Reiner, “Did you introduce me as the bara weed king again?”

Reiner grinned, picking the bowl back up and taking a hit.

Jean tapped Marco on the shoulder, “Bara’s like the Japanese word for buff, masculine dudes in gay porn.”

Marco looked at Jean, “So you literally call him king of buff gay men and pot.”

Jean nodded, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I was not asked or consulted before they started to call me that,” Bertie interjected, looking defeated and kind of sweaty, actually.

Marco looked at Jean again, who was struggling to keep a straight face.

Marco nodded once, before he started to laugh, suddenly so embarrassed he couldn’t really stand it. He’d asked someone he barely knew what a buff dude in Japanese gay porn was, and then called him the king of them. Jean was laughing, too. What a great foot to start out on.

“I’m sorry, Bertholdt, they told me to,” he said, once he’d regained his composure.

“Your face is so red you can barely see your freckles,” Jean told him, reaching out with his leg to poke him with his foot.

“It’s alright,” Bertie said, “They call one of our smaller friends twink princess of the pot. I guess bara weed king isn’t so bad, comparatively.”

“I think twink princess of the pot is a great title,” Jean said.

“Aren’t you the one that came up with it?” Reiner said, blowing another cloud of smoke at the ceiling.

Bertie started to mess with his hair again, “Hell yes. Him and Sasha being dicks at Ymir’s.”

“You’ve got to meet Sasha, too, Marco,” Jean said, “Hell, you’ve got to meet everybody.”

Bertie leaned forward, picking up the book on the ground, “I’m assuming this is Marco’s, because Jean doesn’t read.”

“Yeah, all of them on the table are mine,” Marco said, “I’m trying to get Jean to read some of them.”

Bertie read the front, “Interview with the Vampire? That was a really awesome movie.”

“Yeah, I liked it a whole lot,” Marco said, sitting forward a bit, “They really did the book justice, I think. You can borrow it if you want.”

“Oh, sweet, thanks,” Bertie said, smiling, “I’ll give it to Jean if I don’t see you again for a while.”

Marco nodded, “That’s cool. Take as long as you want, though.”

Jean and Reiner were engaged in a conversation about Adventure Time, so Bertie pulled the stack of books towards himself. He looked through him, stopping on some titles to talk about how much he’d heard about it, or how he’d liked it when he read it himself.

Bertie had three books in his hands by the time he’d gotten to the end of them, and he smiled at Marco, “Sweet, thanks, Marco.”

Marco just grinned in return, thinking that Jean’s friends were really nice guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woho thanks for reading, feedback's always rad, and u should check out my tumblr probably which is 420fubar hell yeah


	5. Nerds and Movie Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco texts Jean while he's hanging at Bert and Ernie's with Armin and Sasha and so he comes over and after they watch Frozen and Sasha plays a joke on Jean, they play Never have I ever and it's a good time (also Frozen spoilers but i mean. yeah.)

Reiner and Bertie’s shared house was a regular place to go if anyone didn’t have plans on the weekend. It wasn’t usually a big crowd, and usually Sasha could find some sketchy site to watch a movie on, hooking up her little notebook computer to the TV.

“He was cute,” Bertie said, dunking his three chips into the dip bowl and taking half of it with him when he pulled back to eat it.

Reiner nodded, “He had like a zillion freckles, and nice skin. Him and Jean’d be cute.”

“Please don’t talk about me like I’m not here, especially when insinuating my platonic friend and I would make a good couple,” Jean belted off, voice kind of toneless. He’d had to say it more than once today.

Sasha patted him on the back, “It’s okay, Jean. At least it got them off trying to get us to date.”

“Unless freckles is into threesomes,” Armin piped up, waving his chip around before taking a bite out of it.

“Wow, I’d expected you to cover me, Armin,” Jean replied, “But I’d guess you’d know something about friends being into threesomes.”

Armin blushed, popping the rest of the chip in his mouth and fiddling with his bangs.

“Speaking of,” Reiner said, “where’s anger issues and the prodigy?”

Armin shrugged, grabbing another chip, “Eren’s trying to study, or so he said. He’s probably playing Xbox.”

Sasha sat down at the table beside Jean, pushing a can of mountain dew at Armin before prompting, “And Mikasa?”

“She’s at an overnight meet for track, or something,” Armin shrugged, “Some athlete thing.”

Sasha stretched her arms over her head, yawning, and Jean poked her in her tummy, “Look, just the mention of physical activity makes Sasha tired.”

“Oh, get out of my face,” Sasha said, slapping his hand away, “I may not be able to beat your skinny ass in a race, but I damn sure can win a fight.”

“Oooooh,” Reiner called, “Smackdown.”

Jean held up his hands, “I forgot that Sasha was queen of the sick burns.” He grabbed a chip himself, scraping it over the dip a bit before eating it and checking his phone.

There was a snapchat story from Ymir, showing Krista in 3D movie glasses in front of concessions making a fish face, a couple emojis in the captions. He checked his text messages, getting one from Marco that said he’d passed his driving exam, and was officially getting his license.

“ _Oh hell yeah son, good for you. Why’d you have to wait anyway?_ ” he typed back, also deciding to send Eren a message saying, “ _So I hear you’re either studying or playing video games. So which is it, are you sucking at Math or Mass Effect?_ ”

“And then the teacher told me to leave,” Sasha was saying, “Because I was eating in class. Like, everyone else gets away with it, but when it’s me-no way.”

“I think you think the teacher just has it out for you,” Bertie said honestly.

Sasha shook her head, “No, he really hates me. I had two questions left blank on my homework, and he totally took point off for it. Two questions!”

Jean looked down at his phone, going to his messages and checking Eren’s that read “ _What the fuck is a polynomial function and how do I figure it out._ ”

“ _Why don’t you just get over your ego and ask Armin to tutor you.”_

_“It’s not an ego issue, idiot, Armin’s literally too smart to explain it to someone dumb like me.”_

_“You are pretty stupid.”_

He switched over to the messages from Marco, which said, “ _I just took the course late and wasn’t so good at getting hours in. And I get one of my sisters’ old car, which is great! Do you want to hang out?”_

“Hey, Bertie,” Jean said, looking up from his phone just as Bertholdt was shoving a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Hmm?” Bertie responded, or at least tried to.

“Can Marco come hang out with us, watch the movie and shit?”

Reiner narrowed his eyes, “Why’d you specifically ask Bertie instead of me?”

Bertie shrugged, glancing at Reiner out of the corner of his eye, “Yeah, if he wants to.”

“ _I’m at Bertie’s, but he said u can come over if u want to! Sasha n Armin r here, but we’re not doing anything except a movie. I can txt u the address.”_

“Jean,” Armin whined, “what did you say to Eren?”

“I told him he was dumb,” Jean answered, shrugging.

Armin made an exasperated face, “Jean. He’s really struggling with his math, and I know you two play around or whatever, but can you please lay off about this? If he doesn’t pass, he’s going to get kicked off the football team and you know he breathes for that, regardless of how any of us feel about sports. Okay?”

“Oooh, that’s Armin’s serious voice,” Sasha whispered, even though everyone at the table could hear. Jean distinctly felt his ears get hot, embarrassed at being scolded by Armin. The blonde shot Sasha a look, and she shut up.

“All I said was he was dumb,” Jean grumbled, scratching his nose, still looking at the table.

Armin breathed in heavily, “I know, but he’s been a mess since he bombed his last test. Mikasa tries to help but more often than not she ends up doing the work for him.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jeans said, trying to change the subject.

“Jean passed his algebra 2 class last year with a 97 average,” Sasha said, “And it was honors. He could help Eren.”

“What, no,” Jean said, imagining himself pinned with teaching _Eren Jaegar_ how to correctly use FOIL, how dense he’d be and how he’d probably get distracted by a speck of dust in the air. No, thank you.

Armin, however, looked pleasantly surprised by the idea, “You’re good at math, Jean?”

“No,” Jean lied, “Plus that was last year, I hardly remember _anything_ , and you know me and Eren butt heads all the time-“

“Maybe his notes and work would remind you,” Armin said, “Could you at least try?”

“No,” Jean said, looking up and crossing his arms over his chest. Armin’s lips were downturned, his eyebrows tilted up in displeasure. But the worst part was the eyes, big and blue and full of disappointment and he could practically see them starting to water and Armin always knew how to start the waterworks and god damn it.

“Fine,” he relented, blowing out a big gust of air to let everyone know he wasn’t happy with it in the least bit, “How do you know he’ll even let me.”

Armin smiled smugly, all traces of prior sadness gone, “He’s desperate.”

Reiner snickered, and Jean furrowed his brows. He was stuck tutoring Eren Jaegar, someone he could only tolerate in small doses and usually only when he was around their friends. Life was confusing and disappointing.

He checked his phone, glad to see Freckles had texted back. He needed to change that contact name, he really did. “ _Oh! Okay that sounds cool. Yeah if you can send me the address, I can look up directions. And youre sure its okay with everyone? I don’t want to intrude or anything._ ”

Intrude. Jean looked up, Armin tapping away happily on his phone-probably telling Eren and/or Mikasa the good news, Sasha and Reiner seeing how many chips they could chew in their mouth with their lips closed, Bertie telling them they were ridiculous as he scooped at least two tablespoons of dip onto one chip and ate it. God forbid Marco intrude on this.

He typed him the address, telling him his jeep would be in front with a work truck, another SUV, and a shitty early 2000’s Ford Taurus. Making fun of Armin’s car was a bit childish, sure, but he felt a little bit more satisfied anyway.

Reiner apparently won the chip-eating contest, to which Sasha responded, “I think you had an unfair advantage, you’re used to having your mouth full.”

Bertie leaned forward, looking at her around Reiner, his expression a bit affronted, “He is most certainly not used to _chewing_ with his mouth full, if you want to insinuate what I think you are.”

Reiner gave her a self-satisfied smile, “You’re just butthurt ‘cause you lost, ha ha.”

Sasha stuck her tongue out, taking out her phone.

Jean leaned closer to her, “You textin your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Sasha said, banging her own head against Jean’s. He hissed, reaching up to press his palm against his forehead.

“Ow, god, you fucking mean ass,” Jean said, “I guess what I meant to ask was are you texting Connie.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him, “Yes, I am texting Connie. He’s at his grandma’s today.”

“How quaint,” Reiner commented, and Armin laughed lightly.

“She’s making him scrub her floors,” Sasha said, “Heh heh, dweeb.”

Armin was about to say something but when he opened his mouth all they heard was barking. Sasha laughed, the barking getting louder along with the sound of nails skidding on hardwood floors. Bert and Reiner’s German shepherd ran around the corner of the hall, slipping only slightly, to run at the front door, jumping and barking and snapping at the glass.

“Peaches!” Reiner yelled, “Get down.”

The dog whined, backing up and pacing around the coffee table.

There was a slight knock at the door, and Peaches barked once, before Reiner looked at her, and she sat down. He got up and opened the door, “What do you want?”

There was a slight stuttering reply, “Uh, Jean said that-“

Reiner stepped aside, gesturing Marco inside, and Peaches immediately ran up to him, sniffing the bottom of his jeans. Peaches went from intimidating guard dog to harmless puppy incredibly quick once she saw if her owners liked the visitor or not. Marco reached down to pet her, ruffling the fur behind her ears.

“Hello, puppy,” he said, looking up and waving at the people at the table, “Hi, Jean, hi Bertie.”

Bertie waved back, and Jean gestured him over. Marco sidestepped the dog, who still followed him to the table, happy with her new friend.

“Marco, this is Sasha, and that’s Armin,” Jean said, pointing at them, “Guys, this is Marco.”

“Hey, we sat beside each other in Bio last year,” Armin said, “I thought Jean might’ve been talking about you, but I didn’t think someone as nice as you could hang out with Jean by choice.”

Marco laughed lightly, and Jean breathed a long suffering sigh. All his friends were assholes. Even the nice ones were assholes.

Marco sat down, beside Jean and Armin, and Sasha looked around Jean at him, “Are you gonna stay for the movie, Marco?”

Marco shrugged, nodding, “If that’s okay.”

“No, Marco,” Jean said, “I’m going to make you leave myself, ten minutes after you just got here, because you cannot watch the movie with us.”

Marco shrugged, smiling.

“Oh, dude, yeah, did you drive your new car here?” Jean said, remembering his texts, “What is it?”

“It’s a kia,” Marco told him, “It was my sisters’ like four years ago.”

“Did she leave it in good condition for you?” Sasha asked.

Marco nodded, “It looks pretty good, since they both had to share it.”

“So you have two sisters?” Jean asked.

“Mhm,” Marco said, “They’re twins, Marlana and Marissa.”

“Wait,” Reiner said, a smile on his face, “Your parents named you guys-Marlana. Marissa. And Marco?”

Marco shrugged, “Yeah.”

“That’s incredible,” he said, “Bertie, can we name our kids like that if we ever have any.”

“No,” Bertie responded, “I’m not letting you name anything.”

“Oh my god, come on,” Reiner said, “You’re the one that named the dog. You named her Peaches, Bertie. What kind of German shepherd is named Peaches.”

“You wanted to name her Buster,” Bertie argued, “That’s a boy dog name.”

Reiner made a face, “Get your gender norms away from my dog.”

“Okay,” Sasha said, stopping their dumb argument just as Armin was about to get involved, “Who has movie ideas.”

“You never like my recommendations, so,” Armin crossed his arms, shrugging.

Sasha pursed her lips, “Because you literally always suggest historical documentaries.”

“Hey, you all loved Public Enemies,” Armin said.

Sasha shrugged, “That was like a onetime thing. And you had the DVD of that. And it wasn’t set in the fucking 1850s.”

“Plus it had Johnny Depp in it,” Bertie added. Jean nodded solemnly. His hair had been fine as hell in that movie.

“Have you downloaded that new movie with Adam Sandler?” Reiner asked.

“Yeah, and it was stupid. I deleted it,” Sasha said.

“Why don’t we watch that new Disney movie,” Bertie said, propping his head up on his hand.

Jean hadn’t seen Frozen yet, but still said, “Hey, didn’t you have a link to Meet the Millers?”

“Yeah, and it’s We’re the Millers, you jackass,” Sasha said, “I’ve got a Frozen link, too, so it’s up to you guys on what you want to watch.”

“Frozen,” Armin said just as Reiner said, “We’re the Millers.”

“I say We’re the Millers,” Jean said, “What about you Marco?”

“Um, either is fi-“

“No, that’s not true, you could be the tie breaker here and your opinion is very important.”

“Frozen, then.”

“I say Frozen,” Sasha said, “Frozen wins, the meeting is adjourned. Okay. Now I just have to find it. I’m pretty sure I liked it.”

“Oh god, we’ll never find it,” Jean groaned, knowing Sasha had like 5k likes on her blog.

“Shhh, yes I will,” she said, reaching behind her chair to get her Jake the Dog backpack/purse. Her notebook was so small it fit inside it with room for all her other shit. Which mainly consisted of makeup, food, and trash.

Then they had to hook up the little laptop to the TV in the living room, which took a bit of Armin’s technological expertise and a bit of cursing. Bertie and Reiner had already claimed the wide loveseat, Bertie’s legs draped over Reiner’s. Jean noticed for the first time his socks had kittens on them.

Marco sat next to the arm farthest away from the TV, then Jean plopped down beside him. Armin said he’d forgotten his glasses so he sat closest to the TV, Sasha next to him and Jean.

They all watched in relative silence. Reiner commented on Hans’s ‘sweet sideburns’ and Sasha introduced Let it Go as the ‘I don’t give a fuck song.’ After the scene where they lost the sled, Jean may or may not have dozed off, his head against the back of the couch. When he came to again, he was kind of lost because Reiner was rather upset and insulting Hans’s sideburns.

“Wait, so Hans is a bad guy?” he asked, yawning.

“Go back to sleep, kitty,” Reiner hissed, “That’s what you get for falling asleep.”

Jean’s mind was still a bit fuzzy from the nap, so he just let the rest of the movie happen. He was able to piece together what had happened, pretty much. Marco and Sasha were getting along pretty well, chattering happily about Sven and Olaf and Elsa and this that and the other.

After the movie, they all got up, Sasha going to loot the kitchen. Jean went to the bathroom, finding out well enough why Reiner had called him ‘kitty.’

He walked into the main room, folding his arms over his chest. Everyone was struggling to maintain a straight face, even Marco.

“Who,” Jean said, “drew on my face.”

“Marco,” Sasha immediately said. He narrowed his eyes at her-mainly because he knew it had been her, and Marco lost it and started to laugh. Jean didn’t blame him, not only did he have lipstick on-dark purple, actually, but she’d drawn whiskers on him with liquid eyeliner and given him a heart nose. Not to mention the poorly drawn stars on his forehead.

“You’re a really deep sleeper,” Marco said.

Jean shrugged, leaving him to walk into the kitchen a grab a few paper towels. He scrubbed his face all over, finally wiping his lips on it. He looked up at Armin and Marco, who were sitting at the table again and talking idly, “Did I get it all?”

Armin shook his head, “There’s star residue near your left eyebrow. Nope, other left. Yeah. And the lipstick’s still on.”

Jean wiped his lips again, “Now?”

“It’s still there,” Marco said.

Sasha walked back into room, another bag of chips in her hands, “That’s because it’s lipstain.”

“Oh my god, I _hate_ you.”

They heard Reiner and Bertie laughing along with Marco and Armin. Reiner handed Sasha her computer, patting Jean on the back, “Well, at least it’s your shade.”

Jean batted his eyelashes, “You really think so?”

He gave up on scrubbing his lips, and threw the paper towels away, sitting back down with his friends. He periodically threw Cheetos at Sasha, which Bertie would whine about, but if he missed, Peaches got them.

They hung out for a while, since it was still early. The movie had only lasted until about four, and after about thirty minutes, Sasha suggested playing “Never Have I Ever.”

“We already know just about everything,” Reiner said.

“But Marco doesn’t,” Sasha said, “I think this is a good idea.”

Since there was really nothing else to do, they all agreed. Bertie suggested using the Cheetos instead of the whole finger thing, so they each laid out ten Cheetos, Jean reminding Sasha not to eat hers.

“I’ll go first,” Sasha said, “Okay, never have I ever…taken an honors class.”

Armin, Jean, Bertie, and Marco all had to eat a Cheeto. Jean was next, so he said, “Never have I ever…had siblings.” Marco, Bertie, and Reiner had to eat one of theirs.

Marco went next, saying, “Never have I ever skipped school.”

Sasha made an indignant noise, “Oh my god, that’s hardly fair.” Everyone had to eat a Cheeto at that one.

Armin said, “Never have I ever been over 5’4.”

“Low blow, Armin,” Reiner said, munching on his cheeto.

Armin shrugged, “I’m in this to win.”

Bertie’s was, “Never have I ever dyed my hair.”

Reiner and Sasha ate their Cheetos, Armin saying smugly, “Jean, I didn’t see you eat a cheeto.”

Jean made a face at him, popping one in his mouth, “Reiner, I didn’t know you had ever dyed your hair.”

“It was once,” Reiner said, “and never again.”

“I will have to show you the pictures sometime,” Bertie grinned.

“Freshman year is hard for everyone,” Reiner looked out the window behind Armin dramatically. But he quickly regained his grin, saying, “Never have I ever played a Boy’s Love game.”

“What’s that?” Marco asked, as all four of the others ate a cheeto. Jean shook his head in answer, because that’d just be the bara thing all over again. Plus he didn’t think he wanted Marco to know when he’d just had to eat a cheeto. Armin had eaten one too, which was at least a little surprising, Bertie grumbling as he’d had to eat one. Sasha was the only one who’d looked near laughter.

They played for a while, and Marco was winning, followed by Armin. Marco kept saying things like, “Never have I ever snuck out of my house” and “Never have I ever had piercings” or “Never have I ever smoked pot.” The last one is what caused Bertie to get out, and had caused a collective groan.

After four go-rounds, everyone started to try and get Marco out, Sasha saying, “Never have I ever had freckles” and Reiner saying, “Never have I ever had to ask someone what a bara was” and Jean getting him with, “Never have I ever been in a school club.”

After thirty minutes they were all out, and Sasha had won with “Never have I ever had a dick in my butt.” Getting rid of the last two, Armin and Reiner, who complained endlessly about the loss.

Marco laughed at their distress, telling Sasha that the game had been a good idea.

Sasha grinned, “I am full of good ideas. And I have another one. Let’s go get something to eat.

Everyone was more or less behind that idea, and they all piled into Bertie’s Suburban. Jean had to sit in the way back with no seats, but he had a good time bothering Armin, Sasha, and Marco from the back, even if one time Bertie made a turn a bit too sharply and he hit his head.

Sasha made them stop at a Mexican restaurant, and it was only when they were already seated that Jean remembered his lips were purple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eep nearly 50 kudos and four rly lovely comments eep eep tysm
> 
> my tumblr is 420fubar if ur interested, and u should also check out anniecrystalqueen and nidorine ;)


	6. Nerds and a Girl's Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just Jean and Sasha being dorks tbh they eat pizza and watch anime because they are bffs

“Eren, you can’t do these things just in your head,” Jean said, “You have to write it out.”

“I can do these in my head,” Eren insisted, “six times seven? I have to write that out?”

“Yes, you fucking do, look how long this problem is. Are you going to remember you already multiplied the six and the seven after multiplying everything else, too?” Jean stabbed at the paper with his pencil, “If you just write it out, it’s harder to fuck up.”

“Do you know how much time that takes?” Eren whined, “I’ll never get done with homework.”

Jean pressed the eraser of his pencil against his forehead, “No shit, each of these take like twenty minutes, but that’s not my problem. I’m supposed to help you get how to do them.”

“This sucks,” Eren curled his lip, staring at the paper. Jean knew he hated schoolwork, because usually when he had a problem Eren preferred to fight it. You damn sure can’t punch an equation in the face, no matter how much it deserves it.

Jean remained apathetic though, “Would you rather go back to growth and decay?”

Eren snorted, hunching over his paper and starting to work on the equation, “Hell no.”

Jean let him work out the problem, actually starting his English homework instead of doing it during lunch the next day. He answered Eren’s questions about times tables between his essay questions, checking his work before telling him to do the next one.

“I did that one right, though?” Eren asked, looking at him hopefully. Jean thought he didn’t look totally insufferable, he was actually kind of cute when he was confused and hoping to be right.

Too bad he was a complete dickwad.

“Yeah, what do you want, a cookie?” Jean said, picking up his book to look for the answer to his third question, “Now try to do it without me spoon-feeding you.”

The cuteness crumpled, the scowl back on his face as he grumbled, “Wow, asshole. A cookie would be really nice, actually.” Jean grinned at his paper.

They worked until Eren had done most of his paper, getting at least 75% of the questions right on his first try. Jean actually got all his homework done waiting to double check Eren. He only had four more questions when Jean got a text from Sasha, a demand for him to come pick her up now. He sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Alright, dweeb,” Jean said, standing and putting his jacket on, “I gotta go. Do you think you can do the rest of this without crying like a total infant?”

Eren made a face at him, “Yeah, but mama’s going to be mad you left before dinner.”

“Tell her I have to go pick Sasha up,” he replied, “Emergency. Probably. Tell her thanks anyway.”

“Alright,” Eren said, shrugging, “I’m not the one that has to deal with an angry Hispanic woman when you come over next.”

“I don’t think she’ll be too hard on me, considering I’m helping her brain dead son pass his courses,” Jean said, hitting Eren upside the head before quickly stepping out of reach from his hand coming back to hit him. He’d learn the kid might be slow in class, but definitely not in a fight.

“Show yourself out, dick,” Eren said, turning back to his work. Jean called a bye, and walked through the nice little kitchen to get out the back door. He shrugged his shoulders up, trying to protect his neck from the cold rain falling. It wasn’t too heavy, but he still cursed when he could get his jeep opened. The fucking key remote only worked half the time.

He drove to Sasha’s house, sitting on the road in front instead of pulling in the driveway and sending her a text over blowing the horn. He didn’t know if she was trying to sneak out or not.

About two minutes later he saw her climb out her window, carrying her ugly over-night bag she’d gotten in seventh grade. She’d taken the screen off her window awhile back, which made things a whole lot easier.

Jean started to back out just as she got seated in the car, and she waited until they were three houses down to shut the door. It was a real testament to how often they did this how well-versed the whole operation was.

“What was it this time?” Jean asked, circling back around the trailer park, having to stop for some little kids playing. They both waved to them, Sasha smiling as one of the little boys grinned back, both hands up in a greeting.

“It was probably nothing. Dad started drinking too early again, and seems hell bent on inviting all his friends over. Mom said not to, and he started screaming, she cried, I went in my room,” Sasha shrugged again, reaching for the radio.

Jean sighed, “So, nothing big?”

Sasha shook her head, “Nah. I just rather spend the night with my weeaboo best friend.”

 Jean rolled his eyes, “Sasha the bag you have in your lap says ‘I heart muffinzzz’ with a Z, and ‘rawr’ written all over the first pocket.”

“Jean, just because some of us got rid of all the evidence of their L-O-L X-D phase doesn’t mean they didn’t have one,” Sasha looked at him pointedly, before turning her attention back to the radio. She soon found a satisfactory station and turned it up. The rain got heavier the closer they got to his apartment, and Jean had to slow down as it started to come down in sheets.

“Jesus, it’s raining so hard,” Jean said, leaning closer to the windshield as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment.

He parked his jeep in the nearest parking space to the staircase, shrugging his jacket off and preparing to use it as some protection from the downpour.

“Ready?” Jean asked, pulling the handle on his door.

Sasha nodded, and they both started to sprint towards the steps, Jean taking them two at a time while Sasha quick-stepped up them. The awning above them didn’t serve to stop the slanting rain, and Sasha practically screeched at Jean as he accidentally dropped his keys.

When he finally got the door open, Sasha did shove him inside, slamming the door behind herself.

“It’s just a little rain,” Jean teased, balling up his jacket that only served to keep the top of his head dry.

Sasha made a face at him, pulling her shirt over her head, “Says the guy who had a jacket to use as a makeshift umbrella.”

Jean huffed, not mentioning how she ignored he was soaked from the neck-down. He peeled his shirt off, too, reaching down to roll up his jeans so he didn’t track water all over the house. Sasha did the same, scrunching up her skinnies halfway up her calf.

“You’ve got some shirts in my room,” Jean said, grabbing the clothes on the floor and heading towards the washer, “And like four pair of tights.”

“Where?” Sasha asked, rubbing her bare arms.

“Uhhh,” Jean dumped the wet laundry in the basket, turning to face her, “Check on the dresser. Or in it.”

“Wow, that is so helpful,” She responded, “Can you at least fix some food while I get changed?”

“Yeah, sure. Cute bra, by the way.”

She smiled, “Hell yeah it is.”

She disappeared down the hall, and he hunted through the cabinets for something to fix. He pulled out two mini pizzas for them to eat, struggling for a moment with the plastic wrap and glad Sasha wasn’t watching him. He turned the oven on, sticking the pizzas on the rack and then going into the bathroom for a towel to dry off a bit more with. There was a dry shirt on the ground but after a quick smell-check he determined he shouldn’t wear it.

Sasha was leaving his room when he turned off the light to the bathroom, and he immediately said, “That’s my shirt.”

She shrugged, breezing past him in his Batman shirt and a pair of black tights. He pouted, even though she wasn’t looking. Sasha tended to stretch the chest of his shirts, which he probably wouldn’t have minded if he had a build like Reiner’s. He swore she did it on purpose, because he’d just give them to her at that point.

He went into his room, realizing how messy it was. He heaved a breath, trying to avoid stepping on all the clothes he’d thrown on the floor at some point or another this week and dig through his dresser for another shirt.

“Nice boxers,” Sasha commented when he went back in the main room, and he didn’t even offer a comment up in return. The blue camo had come in a pack, in his defense, and there were no more clean pants in his room.

“Hey, I’m going to pick up all those clothes in my room while the pizza cooks, okay?”

“You need to. It’s starting to stink in there.”

“Sasha, I swear to god I will eat both the fucking pizzas, and you will get none,” Jean said, grabbing the basket off the washer and dragging himself down the hall. He hated laundry, but it didn’t take him long to pick up the clothes.

Sasha got the pizzas out while he put the clothes in the washer, dumping some washing powder in it and turning it on. He watched her cut their pizzas, and she put them on paper towels. They carried it in the living room, sitting down and turning on Netflix while they cooled.

Sasha pushed her feet against his legs, wiggling her toes as he tried to get her to tell her what she wanted to watch.

“Anime,” she said, leaning back to hang her head off the arm.

“There’s a lot of anime on here,” he responded.

When they finally decided, the pizza was cool, and they ate while watching Ouran Host Club, which they’d both seen at least twice before. Sasha knew some of the lines to the beach episode.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to do this, and Jean really loved it. His apartment was a go-to for most of his friends when they wanted a break from home, but Sasha had been coming over for years. Jean’s mom and her mom had been friends when they were younger, and they’d been close since. It was one of the reasons why they were comfortable enough to be half undressed in front of each other.

“How’d tutoring Eren go?” Sasha asked, wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth between slices.

Jean shrugged, “Well enough, I guess. He was still insufferable.”

“I swear, one of these days you’re going to end up hatefucking.”

“Well, if I happen to miss a day of school because I stayed home to disinfect my dick seventeen times, you can assume we did.”

Sasha laughed, “Okay, then.”

“What about you and Connie?” Jean asked, pinching her leg. She kicked him, just enough to hurt.

“Why are you so touchy about Connie?” he continued, “Baldy’s head over heels for you.”

“Is not,” She grumbled, stuffing her face with pizza. She could barely chew it all.

Jean shook his head, “You’re blind.”

“You’re dumb.”

“What, do you not like him?” Jean pressed, “Is it because he’s bald?”

Sasha kicked him again, “No. Shut up, Jean.”

“No, you don’t like him?”

“Jean,” She groaned, throwing a pillow at him.

He hit it away, more trying to protect his pizza than himself, “C’moooon, just tell me.”

She made a severely displeased face at him, “And you won’t tell?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Jean drew an imaginary X over his chest.

Sasha breathed out a sigh, “I feel like a middle schooler.”

“Two years ago you were, cmon, tell me. Tell your best friend. Tell meeee,” Jean shook her leg for emphasis, pouting.

“Don’t pout, it makes you look like a horse,” she immediately said, making him furrow his brows, “And fine, I like Connie as a friend, but I wouldn’t be against dating him.”

“So you don’t like him all that much, but you don’t dislike him?”

“No,” she said, poking out her bottom lip, “I really, really like him. I like him so much. He’s so nice, and he’s stupid sometimes but he’s my kind of stupid, and he doesn’t mind me eating all his food, and he doesn’t think I’m a weirdo, and I don’t think he minds my size, and I think he’s so cute, even if he is short.” By this time she had her hands covering her face, whining.

Jean put their food on the coffee table pulling her into a hug, “Oh, hon, cmon, you can’t really think Connie doesn’t like you? You guys’d be cute together, too. And please, if anyone did mind your size I’d kick their butts.” She started to laugh against his chest, and he huffed playfully, “What? I would. I’d kick them right in the butt. Even if they were bigger than Reiner.”

She laughed, and he continued, “But I am serious about Connie. He’s just too nervous to ask you, I bet. He seems like he’d be that way. And you’d be sooooo cute.” As he said this, he poked her in the sides, making her laugh harder.

“Okay, okay,” she said, pulling away from him, “fine. Do you guess I have to be the one to ask?”

“I would guess,” Jean shrugged, nodding, picking up her pizza and giving it to her. She took a big bite out of the last slice, chewing like she was thinking.

When they were done eating, Jean threw their napkins away, and plopped back on the sofa, falling in between Sasha’s legs and the  back of the couch, using her as a pillow. She made a great pillow.

She played with his hair, sometimes making fun of it just to get a rebuke out of him. After about four episodes of Ouran, she said, “Do you remember when Hanji showed us this show?”

Jean laughed, “Yeah.”

“They are so weird for a landlord.”

“They’re the ones the signed off for my eyebrow piercing, you know?” Jean said, “Ever since mom went M. I. A. they’ve just sort of been keeping an eye out for me. They say that they get a check from mom’s account every month for rent, but I doubt it.”

“Jeez, that’s nice,” Sasha said, pulling on a bit of his hair absently, “They didn’t even know me and they just waltzed in here that day and gave me a hug and let me cry on them and showed us this dumb anime to make me feel better.”

“And we watched nearly all of it that night,” Jean smiled.

Sasha patted his head, “Hanji doesn’t live in the building anymore, do they?”

“No,” Jean sighed, “They got a job in the city, so they moved there. They come down every weekend, nearly, with their big ass dogs, too.”

“It’s cool people like them exist,” Sasha said.

“Most definitely,” Jean agreed, curling up closer to her. They fell into a comfortable silence, and after two more episodes, Jean realized it was because Sasha had fallen asleep. He realized he needed to take a shower, and probably brush his teeth, but instead let himself fall asleep against her legs.

# 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep updating late i swear i will update the next chapter on friday this week ok also sorry for no marco but the brotp was calling my name ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> also thank u all for the comments and stuff eeeeee


	7. Nerds and New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco meets the rest of the gang. Ymir's pretty intimidating, Krista knows how to make an entrance, Connie does something stupid right off the bat, Mikasa seems pretty ok, and apparently Eren's the reason everyone's talking about poking smot.

“Dude, this is so _nice_ ,” Jean said, leaning back against his seat heavily while Marco drove, “It looks brand fucking new, did your sisters even use this thing? Can I work the radio on the way there?”

Marco told him he could, as long as he didn’t forget to give directions, too.

“Okay, let’s see,” Jean looked around, shifting in his seat. Marco didn’t mention he didn’t have his seat belt on-Jean rarely used one. He drummed his fingers on the dash, “Alright, Ymir’s is…Have we passed the really big tree with three tire swings?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Marco replied, “I haven’t exactly been looking for it. That’s kind of your job.”

“Okay, okay, no need to point fingers. Okay, yeah, I know where we are,” Jean shifted forward in his seat, his butt on the edge now, “Okay, turn right up here. You see the red mailbox? Yeah, that’s Ymir’s.”

Marco slowed down, making the turn. Ymir’s house wasn’t huge, but it certainly was big. It seemed like it was pretty old, and it had a wraparound porch and the driveway continued back and wove away from the house to what looked like a huge garage. Marco could see old cars dotting the lot around it, even some parked in the front yard of the house.

Jean hopped out of the car as soon as it stopped, and Marco followed. Jean knocked on the door, standing against the side of the house as they waited.

“Everyone’s coming over to hang out today,” Jean said, “Seems like we’re early.”

The door opened, and the girl who opened it didn’t look too happy. She was thin, and only a bit shorter than Jean, with dark brown hair and olive skin. A few freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose, but not nearly as many as Marco had. Her expression obviously said she hadn’t expected them, and maybe hadn’t wanted them here. Marco felt a little uneasy, he hoped Jean had told his friend he was bringing him over.

“Why do you look so pissy?” Jean said, “Ymir, this is Marco. Marco, Ymir.”

Ymir looked him up and down, looked vaguely displeased, “I was hoping Krista would get here first.”

“You can make out with your girlfriend later,” Jean told her, “Be nice to your guests, if you can even summon up common decency anymore.”

“Jean,” Marco said, unable to sound like he wasn’t scolding Jean.

Ymir cracked a smile, “Looks like mama’s got a mama now. Don’t even try to keep Jean in line, he’s a shithead through and through.”

She stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. Jean huffed, “You’re not going to invite us in?”

“No,” she said, walking past Marco and pulling three lawnchairs that were on the porch closer together, “We can sit outside, I know you don’t get enough fresh air Jean. You never leave your apartment.”

“Yes I do,” Jean said, adding in a grumble, “sometimes.”

Jean sat in the middle, with Ymir in the chair closest to the driveway. Marco was pretty quiet as Ymir and Jean talked, looking at the various cars in Ymir’s yard since he had nothing to really contribute to the conversation.

“Hey, Freckles,” Ymir said, leaning forward to look at him around Jean, “Have you ever drank?”

“What?”

“Drank. Drank the alcohol,” Ymir repeated, “I heard you’d never smoked, so I mean I was just wondering.”

“Uh, no, not really,” Marco said, “My parents aren’t big drinkers. I’ve had wine before but not. Much.”

Ymir kept staring at him blankly before she said, “And tell me again why you hang out with Jean?”

Jean shook his head, “All of you act like all I do is party. I am sober a lot more than you would all make me out to be.”

Ymir made a skeptical face at him, “Well, yeah, but. Marco is it just because you’ve never had the opportunity or what?”

“Do you have to keep bothering him about it?”

“I’m just curious, you ass,” Ymir said, crossing her arms and sitting up straighter.

Marco scratched at his chin, “Uh, I guess it’s because I’ve never been…like around it? All my other friends don’t really do anything like that. They wouldn’t know where to buy weed or they don’t want to steal their parent’s alcohol.”

Ymir made a slightly perplexed face, “And what about you, freckles? Are you like, against it, or would you smoke or what?”

Marco opened and closed his mouth, feeling like this was what middle and high school health warned him about. Peer pressure and gateway drugs and all that stuff that’d been shoved at him for years, and here it was the opportunity to refuse firmly like he’d always been taught to do because drugs were _bad_.

“Yeah, I’d smoke,” he said instead, “I just don’t know, uh, how. Or anything.”

“I can totally teach you,” Jean said, a mischievous grin on his face, “Any time you want.”

Ymir huffed, “Bad influence strikes again. What would your mother say, Marc?”

“She’d probably take away everything I have and put me on house arrest,” Marco said, imagining his mother finding out about his new choice in company. Or, god forbid, his father.

Ymir laughed, though, “Then, make sure she doesn’t find out.”

“What about your parents?” Marco asked, “Do all of your friends just have parents miraculously cool with it?”

“Some of us do,” Jean said.

Ymir rolled her eyes, “Like three parents within a thousand miles are openly cool with their kids smoking weed. But it’s not a big deal because you know what you do? You lie, and you hide it. Ta-da, it’s magic.”

Marco ignored how bad that sounded in favor of saying, “Have you ever gotten caught?”

“Me?” Ymir asked, “Hell no, I’m too slick for that shit. Reiner got caught so much, though, from what I hear. Bertie did too, but he was, is, and will probably continue to be stoned out of his mind whenever possible.”

“Sasha’s gotten caught with a blunt,” Jean said, “Her mom grounded her for a month and Sasha snuck out and stayed with me the whole time.”

“The whole month?” Marco asked.

Jean nodded, “Ha, yeah.”

“They’re practically married,” Ymir said, “Sasha has more clothes at Jean’s place than her own fucking home.”

“Are you dating?” Marco asked, looking at Jean. He’d met her, but Jean had never said he’d had a girlfriend. It wasn’t surprising, Marco thought, Jean was a good-looking guy.

Jean shook his head though, “Don’t listen to Ymir. Me and Sash are just really close, our moms practically raised up together.”

Marco nodded, just as a white mustang pulled into the driveway, making the turn a bit sharply in Marco’s opinion. Marco could hear the song playing as the windows were rolled down as the diver pulled in very close to the house, parking on the grass. The bass of the metal song was obviously vibrating the ground, and it took a moment for the person driving to get out. Marco couldn’t really understand the words, but it sounded violent. He was pretty sure he caught a bit about burning flesh and stealing souls.

But then the driver got out, in a rust-red colored hoodie pulled up over their heads and black tights, but they weren’t over five foot tall. They pulled back their hood at they climbed the steps, and it was a vaguely familiar looking girl. She had wispy blonde hair, and big blue eyes lined in black. She smiled at them, scrunching up her face as she did so.

“Hi, Ymir, Jean,” she held out a hand to Marco, “and you must be Jean’s friend, Marco! Hi, I’m Krista.”

“Hi,” Marco said, smiling back and shaking her hand.

She ruffled Jean’s hair and then went to sit on Ymir’s lap. Ymir wrapped her arms around her and put her chin on her shoulder.

It wasn’t long until more people started to show up, so Marco didn't really get to talk to her, but he figured Krista was really nice.

Bertie’s suburban was the next to pull up and the second it stopped a skinny boy with dark skin dashed out of the back door and ran up the steps, and around the other side of the porch. Marco watched in vague concern as Reiner started running after him, yelling insults and threats as he ran.

Bertlholdt and Sasha walked away from the car, standing in front of the porch close enough to talk.

“What did Connie do this time?” Jean asked, as they heard a telltale shriek from around the house.

The girl grinned, “He smacked Reiner right before he jumped out of the car. I filmed it. Oh my god, hey, it’s Marco.”

Marco waved at her, looking to the side as Reiner walked up, putting a hand on the back of his chair.

“What’d you do, Reiner?” Jean asked.

“I threw him in some bushes. He’s fine,” Reiner said coolly.

Connie appeared around the corner of the porch as he said this, brushing leaves off his jacket, “Totally worth it though. Ay, look, it’s freckles. Hey, I’m Connie.”

Marco waved again, and Ymir got up, setting Krista on the ground and twining their fingers before telling everyone to go inside. Connie led the way, followed by Reiner who kept “gently” smacking him upside the head.

The house might’ve been old but the inside looked newly renovated, opening into a spacious living room with a flat screen mounted on the wall over the mantle of the fireplace in front of a nice sectional. The kitchen, which was to the right, was full of shiny appliances and had granite countertops. A cat walked along the back on the couch, meowing loudly as the group of teenagers (and Reiner and Bertie) walked inside.

“Armin and Mikasa are coming, right?” Jean said.

Ymir answered, “Yeah, I think. Who knows. And Eren’s coming with them, too.”

Jean made a noise of displeasure and Sasha pushed him with her shoulder, “You and Eren, man, I swear.”

Reiner fell on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head, “Hey, Ymir, where’s the old man?”

“Him and mom are at work,” Ymir said, “They won’t be home until way late. They’ve got to stay at the shop for some reason or another.”

Marco followed Jean into the kitchen, Jean telling him that Ymir’s dad was a mechanic and had his own body shop. The garage in the back was for his hobby of rebuilding old cars.

He gave Marco a soda, right as Connie and Sasha walked in. Connie was a few inches shorter than she was, and his head was shaved. He had a dark complexion, except for dark green eyes, and had on skinny jeans and a loose graphic tee. Sasha was wearing skinnies, too, except her tee was cut to have shorter sleeves and a lower neckline, which cut off some of the Sublime logo over the chest.

She sat on the counter, swinging her legs slightly as she said, “Armin’s on the way over, with Eren and Mika. And Ymir said they’re bringing hella weed.”

“Hella as in a lot, or hella as in good?” Jean asked.

“Both,” Connie clarified, his voice smug, “I know Armin’s the one that got it. Eren doesn’t know shit-don’t tell him I said that, because he can kick my ass-and Mikasa doesn’t even smoke that much.”

“We all have to pay him back though, don’t we?” Jean asked, “There’s what, like ten people here? That’s a lot of weed.”

“Yeah, but Armin’s not like super stingy. And you know Bertholdt has some in his SUV to contribute, regardless of how stupid that is,” Sasha said, crossing her arms, “He probably brought some weed oil, too, you know he’s been getting into that lately.”

“Did he know Armin was bringing some pot over?” Jean said, raising an eyebrow.

Sasha shrugged her shoulders, “Probably. Pot royalty must stick together, after all.”

“What’s weed oil?” Marco asked, looking at them.

Jean waved his hand in the air vaguely, “It’s like…I don’t really know, it’s oil from a pot, i would guess, all I know is it will get you fucked up.”

“Marco, you will definitely be staying away from that,” Sasha said, “Or are you even going to smoke tonight?”

“Shit, yeah, dude we can leave if you want,” Jean said, “But I mean, I’m just saying, if Armin’s not making us pay…”

Marco looked sideways at Jean, “I don’t know Ymir at all.”

“No, no, she’s so cool,” Jean said.

“Yeah, she’s an asshole,” Connie added, “But she’s not like, the bad kind of asshole.”

“That sounded so weird, Connie,” Sasha told him, smirking and breathing a laugh.

“You can call your parents and tell them you’re staying at a friend’s house,” Jean suggested, a smile on his face, “Ymir has shit like this going on all the time, her parents work late and don’t care if a lot of people sleep over. And it’s not like you don’t know anyone, like Reiner and Bertholdt are here, and Sasha’s here, and Armin will be here, plus all the rest of us aren’t dickwads, and you have me.”

“Jean, you’re going so heavy on the peer pressure,” Sasha pointed out.

Jean made a face at her, “Am not. I’m just…expressing that Marco will be fine here if he does decide to smoke. We can still leave, if you’d like.”

Marco pursed his lips, looking at Jean skeptically.

“We can,” Jean said, “You have the keys, you hold our fate in your hands, Marco. It is completely up to you.”

Marco sighed, “Okay.”

“So are you just going to stay, or are you going to smoke, too?” Sasha asked, making a ridiculous face.

Marco smiled nervously, “I guess I’ll smoke.”

Jean raised his hands, “Blessed be freckled Jesus. Armin better hurry up.”

“Ymir better have a ton of food,” Sasha said instead, swinging off the counter and going to the pantry, opening the doors and making a slightly displeased noise, “Connie, it’s not looking good.”

“What is it?” Connie asked, his tone serious, “How bad is the state of the pantry?”

“I’m afraid there’s no snack food in sight,” Sasha replied, “Reese’s Puffs in supply, but not sure how long that will last, though. We may have to resort to desperate measures.”

Jean looked at Marco, shrugging and rolling his eyes in a ‘what can you do’ gesture as he said, “Underclassmen.”

“Jean, you and Marco both were underclassmen _last year_ , shut up,” Sasha said, shooting him a look over her shoulder.

Marco smiled, laughing at Jean’s face back at her.

It didn’t take long for Armin to pull up, and Marco watched out of the kitchen window as he got out of his car with presumably Mikasa and Eren. Armin was wearing a baby blue cardigan and a t-shirt with only with the word “PANTS” written in bold black lettering across the chest. Just the word pants from what Marco could see. Mikasa had shoulder length black hair, and wore a long red scarf with high waisted shorts and a black and white striped shirt. Eren just had on jeans and a green button-up rolled to his forearms.

“They’re here,” Marco told the other three in the kitchen, and Connie and Sasha quickly stopped drawing dicks on the whiteboard on Ymir’s fridge. It looked like they’d erased a fairly important schedule. Jean was just sitting as the island, flipping through a magazine.

“Finally,” Jean said, standing and leading them into the living room. Bertie opened the door for them high fiving all three of them as they walked in, right in a line.

“Ar-man,” Sasha called, walking up to him in what could be described as an over exaggerated saunter, “I heard...that you brought some weed.”

Armin smiled at her, “Maybe I did.”

“What’s the occasion, Armin?” Reiner called from the couch, looking up from his conversation with Krista.

Armin shrugged, “It’s been a long week. And Eren got a passing grade on his math quiz.”

“Courtesy of me,” Jean made sure to say, and Eren shot him a look.

Connie gave a small whoop, “Hail to the princess, pot’s on him! Congratulations on your grade, Eren, let’s smoke some weed.”

Marco nudged Jean, “I’m going to step outside, call my mom and make sure she’s alright with me spending the night.”

Jean nodded, “Good luck man. Just don’t say anything suspicious.”

Marco nodded in turn, and walked around the small group forming around Armin. Bertie followed him out, saying about needing to get something from his car.

Marco walked down the porch, dialing his mom, and waited, only feeling a bit anxious.

“Hello?” she answered on the other end.

“Hey, mom,” he said, reaching up to scratch his jaw, “I was wondering if it’d be cool if I spent the night with a friend.”

“Oh,” she sounded sort of disappointed, “We were going to go out to eat tonight, too. Well, I guess if you want you can. Who is it?”

“Daz,” Marco blurted quickly, “I’m staying with Daz. He’s going to help me with my English work.”

His mother didn’t question him, “See, I knew you could get along with him! Alright, sweetie, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Okay,” Marco nodded to himself, “Okay, I’ll see you. Bye.”

He hung up, looking at his phone for a minute before smiling. That had been surprisingly easy. He waited for Bertie at the door.

“She buy it?” Bert asked, looking down at him with a slight grin.

Marco nodded quickly, “Yeah, she did. She didn’t even question it.”

Bertie opened the door, patting him on the shoulder, “Lucky. C’mon, then, let’s go smoke some pot, Marco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this was a dum b place to end the chapter but alas it wouldve been too long otherwise :'o
> 
> thank u all so much for the kudos and comments and bookmarks frick ur all lovely
> 
> tumblr user nidorine came up with pants on a shirt and also my tumblr is 420fubar still so B)


	8. Nerds and Mary Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody gets high  
> thats it  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look who updated a whole week late s o rry :x

“This is a momentous occasion,” Sasha said, clasping her hands in front of her and closing her eyes. She was sitting on the back of the sectional, her bare feet on the seat, behind Jean.

Armin had brought a _lot_ of weed. It looked like a lot to Marco, at least.  Or maybe it was because Bert had, indeed, had some in his car. A lot of them had given Armin some money, but he wouldn’t take any from Marco since it was his first time. Bertie had done something with some papers and the weed oil, and was currently smoking it by himself while Reiner shared a joint with Sasha and Connie. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were passing another between them, Ymir and Krista rolling one for themselves while Jean tried to explain how to smoke to Marco.

“You just, like, suck the smoke in, right,” Jean said, “Like you’re sucking on a straw. And then you inhale it, when it’s in your mouth, and hold it in.”

“You can swallow it,” Connie offered as he took the joint from Reiner.

“Swallow it?” Marco repeated, looking around as Eren blew a cloud of smoke into Mikasa’s face and she gave him an unamused expression, “And isn’t the living room going to smell when your parents get home?”

Ymir shrugged, licking the joint she’d just rolled, “I’ll light some candles. Turn on the ceiling fan. It’s all good, freckles.” For someone who’d boasted of being too slick to get caught, that didn’t seem like very much.

“Don’t listen to Connie, listen to me,” Jean said, “Okay? You think you got it? You gotta do it, then hold it in. Hold it as long as you can.”

“Uh, okay,” Marco said, “So I just. Suck on it?”

“You just _smoke_ it, freckles,” Reiner said.

Jean turned around, “Shut up, Reiner, jesus. Don’t listen to them at all, they’re all stupid.”

Armin started to cough, a harsh noise as Eren patted him heavily on the back. Marco waited until he straightened up, his eyes watering, but a smile on his face.

“Alright, you wanna light it?” Jean asked, “Nah, I should light it. I’ll take one hit, okay, then pass it to you.”

Marco nodded, watching Jean put it between his lips, light it, and hollow out his cheeks. The end started to burn, the light slowly moving closer to Jean’s fingers as he pulled on it. He opened his mouth, a tendril of smoke floating out before he breathed it back in again, handing the joint to Marco.

Marco thought about a lot of things when he put it up to his lips. He hoped he didn’t smoke it wrong, or look like an idiot. He really hoped his family never found out about this. Would this become a regular thing? He was pretty curious how being high felt.

He tried to listen to Jean’s instructions, but didn’t really think they made that much sense. He sucked in, breathing a bit as he did so, watching the end burn before he breathed in as deep as he could, handing the joint to Jean.

His throat burned, and he did try to hold it end but ended up coughing within like three seconds.

“Man, I didn’t see any smoke,” Jean said as he patted his back, “Try again.”

It took three times for him to exhale smoke, and by then his eyes were watering.

“Give him a shotgun, Jean,” Sasha said, sounding sympathetic.

“No,” Jean responded, “He’s just having a little trouble.”

He tried again, listening to Jean as he did so, but Jean was trailing off a lot, and smiling at him a lot more than usual. Marco looked around, still feeling amazingly normal, Eren slouched on the couch while Mikasa had her knees to her chest and was grinning at something Armin had said. Bert had his head leaned against the back of the couch, while Reiner was laughing rather loudly at whatever Connie was doing-his back was to Marco. Ymir was throwing something at Armin, and missing by a long shot. One hit Sasha and she slapped Connie in the shoulder for it.

“Just give him a shotgun,” Reiner said, “You’re kinda wasting weed, Marco.”

“I’m sorry,” Marco felt his cheeks heat up, and Jean put a hand on his knee.

“Okay, I’ll give you a shotgun,” Jean said, “But…all you gotta do is lean forward and breathe in, okay?”

Jean took the joint again, shorter than it had been and thumped it against an ashtray a couple times, turning it around and putting the burning end between his teeth. Marco made a confused expression but Jean hummed and pointed to the other end, and Marco just panicked and went with it.

He nearly forgot to inhale-his face was so close to Jean’s, and they even had to tilt their heads to avoid noses. Their mouths were also _very_ close, and Marco’s face heated up more, his eyes flitting over Jean’s features as he inhaled. Jean was literally blowing the smoke into his mouth, their lips being two inches apart max.

Marco pulled back, sucking in some air along with whatever smoke he had, as Jean took the joint out of his mouth and turned it around before putting it back in.

“Ha ha,” Eren called, his back nearly parallel with the ground on the couch, “Gay.”

Marco blew out the air he’d been holding, seeing the smoke himself this time as he coughed into his hand, Jean patting him on the back.

“Shut up, Jaegar,” he said, even though a smile was on his face, “I know for a fact you have _at least_ two dildos.”

“How in the _fuck_ do you know that?” Eren laughed back at him, and Marco was really amazed he was comfortable at all in that position.

“I think music would be nice right now,” Sasha said, “Ymir, turn on some music.”

“No,” Connie said, holding out his arms, “Turn on the tv. Turn on a movie.”

“Do you want to try to hit it by yourself?” Jean asked, holding out the joint.

Marco looked at it, making no move to take it, “Can we do it that other way again?”

Jean nodded, and they did it again. Marco tried to inhale more smoke this time, and Jean made a disgusted noise as ashes fell in his mouth. Marco tried not to laugh, for the sake of holding his breath, but ultimately failed, the noise turning into a cough.

By the time Jean finished the joint, Marco felt pretty good. Jean had to help him a couple more times, and Marco was very aware every time their mouths were closer.

Marco settled into the couch behind him, shifting so he was closer to the back. Jean leaned back as well, looking around the room before stealing a glance at Marco.

“You feel good, freckles?” Jean asked, raising one eyebrow almost impossibly high. Marco cackled, nodding.

Jean poked him in the side, which made him squeak with laughter a little, but pointed at Bertie. Marco had to lean up a little to see, but the tall man was staring at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open a little.

“Bertie!” Jean called, reaching out to smack him on the shoulder. Bertie made a vague noise of recognition, and Jean did it again and again before the older guy started to laugh, quiet and deep in his throat.

“Quit, goddammit,” Bertie swatted out trying to grab Jean’s hand, but Jean jumped backwards, bumping into Marco.

“I’m too fast for you, Bertie. Aren’t I too fast for him, Marco?”

“You’re too fast for _everybody_ ,” Marco didn’t really understand how Jean was moving. He didn’t really feel like moving. Bertie had the right idea.

“Jean,” Bertie whined, “Stop. Reiner. Jean’s bothering me.”

Reiner turned at the sound of his name, his eyes red as he just looked between the three of them, lingering on Bert, then Jean, then Marco. Marco grinned, and Reiner started to laugh so hard he didn’t make a sound.

“Marco,” Reiner called.

Marco smiled, “…Yeah?”

Reiner laughed again, and turned to poke at Sasha before turning back, “You’re high as hell, Marco.”

Marco’s smile got wider, “…Yeah.”

Reiner and Sasha both laughed, and Marco probably would’ve felt self-conscious but they wouldn’t laugh at him. At least not in a _mean_ way.

Sasha came to sit on the edge of the couch with him, and told him, “Your eyes are red as fuck, Marco.”

Marco shrugged, just smiling at her.

She grinned, “You like it?”

“Like what?” he asked.

She laughed a little, “You like all this?”

He nodded. Jean’s friends were really nice.

Sasha pointed out Eren, who was already asleep, still in the position that looked as if he was sliding off the couch. Armin and Mikasa were wrapping her scarf around their heads, and Connie was trying to help but more messing them up than anything. Krista was arguing with Ymir over what to put on the radio, though Marco didn’t see a radio in the room. Maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough.

 “Marco, you’re not even _listening_ ,” Sasha said, pushing his legs. He turned his head to her, the movement seeming very slow. He hadn’t realized she was talking to him. He felt an apology on his tongue, but he just smiled again, because smiling was so easy, and shook his head.

She smiled, patting his arm, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Marco nodded again, settling back into the couch again. He heard the general background noise of everyone else talking, or arguing, and he was pretty sure Connie and Reiner were doing some sort of duet but he was content just sitting. He nearly grimaced when Jean grabbed him arm, pulling him to sit up straighter.

“Marco, you’re falling asleep,” Jean told him, and Marco cracked open his eyes-he wasn’t sure when he’d closed them.

“Am not,” he said anyway, but sleeping sounded like a pretty good idea.

Jean pulled on him, standing and worrying him to get up. Marco put his free hand to the side of his own face, groaning, and finally stood up. He had to fix his footing, but eventually stood up steady and looked at Jean.

Jean grinned at him, saying, “Let’s go in the kitchen, I’m trying to get Sasha to order pizza.”

“Pizza?” Marco asked, licking his lips. Pizza sounded so good.

“Do we have any pizza?” someone else asked, and Marco turned to look, and saw it was Reiner.

Jean made a noise, “No, I’m gonna…uh…try to get Sash to call the pizza place.”

Bert had returned to staring at the ceiling, making a weak humming noise before he said, “Piz-zah...” Marco covered his mouth snickering.

The kitchen had gotten so far away, Marco determined, following Jean nonetheless. They were technically holding hands, he was pretty sure. Jean had his wrist, but that was close enough. He vaguely wondered why that was important enough to be noted. Jean was just his friend.

Sasha and Connie were in the kitchen, with Ymir. Ymir was scolding them about something, erasing cartoon dicks off the whiteboard while Sasha and Connie were throwing boxes of food on the island counter.

“Connie, there is nothing to eat,” Sasha said, her voice sort of slower than Marco was used to. She looked pretty displeased from her stance in the pantry. Maybe a little sleepy.

Connie opened the fridge, “There’s carrots in here.”

Sasha made an annoyed noise, “Connie, does this seem like the time for carrots?”

Connie took out the bag anyway, looking at it like he was having an inner debate. “I dunno. I could go for carrots.”

Jean sat down at the island, but Marco just stood in the doorway, leaning against the threshold. He leaned his head against it, too, after a brief moment of consideration.

“We,” Jean announced, “Should order a pizza.”

Sasha walked to the island, putting both her palms on the counter, “What?”

“Order a pizza,” Jean said, crossing his arms, “I think it is a great idea.”

Something suddenly occurred to Marco, so he spoke up, “Won’t the guy tell the people?”

Jean turned to look at him, “Wha? Why are you just standing there, dude? Come sit down. What are you talking about?”

Marco breathed in deeply, walking to the stool to sit down. He put the side of his hand down on the counter, “If you order the pizza,” he put the other hand down a considerable distance away, “then the guy will tell on us.”

“What guy?” Sasha asked, her eyebrows furrowed but a skeptical smile on her lips.

Marco made a vague gesture, “the guy with the pizza.”

“And he’s gonna tell on us,” Connie picked up, a carrot already in his mouth.

“Tell on us for what?” Ymir asked, from her spot in the corner.

Marco looked at them, not understanding what they didn’t get. What if the pizza guy called his boss and the boss called the cops and the cops called his mom? That’d be horrible, he’d be murdered by his own mom. That’d be fucked up.

“Pizza places make money off piece of shit stoners, they wouldn’t call the cops,” Sasha said, “Well, I assuuuume they make money off piece of shit stoners. That seems like an alright assumption to make.”

“Assumption is like the longest word you know,” Connie snorted, dropping his carrot and looking at it dejectedly on the floor.

Sasha made a face, rolling her eyes, “What _ever_. I’m sayin’ it doesn’t make sense they’d call the cops. And your mom wouldn’t murder you. But if she did that would be pretty fucked up.” Until this point Marco hadn’t realized he’d spoken his reasoning out loud.

“It made sense to me,” he murmured.

Jean laughed beside him, “It always does, Marco.” He put a hand on his shoulder, and Marco was back to smiling.

“We would need more than one pizza,” Sasha said, “There’s like twenty people here.”

“ _twenty people_ ,” Connie repeated, looking incredulous, “that’s so much people. When did they all get here?”

“Connie, _shut up_ ,” Sasha said, “They’ve been here. How many pizzas would we need?”

“Twenty,” Marco offered. Jean laughed and elbowed him a little.

Jean put his elbows on the table, running his fingers through his hair and making it stick up, “Maybe five pizzas.”

“Is that enough?” Sasha asked.

“Is that too much?” Ymir countered, “There’s only like. Five people here.”

“That’s in _this room_ , Ymir,” Connie said, “ _God_. Haven’t you been lissening?”

“Oh. No, not really.”

“I think five pizzas,” Jean spoke up, “Would be excellent.”

“Excellent,” Sasha repeated, her tone making fun of Jean, “Five pizzas would be rather exquisalent wouldn’t they, Connie?”

“That’d be fabtabyoulosus,” Connie nodded, “Five pizzas.”

“Who in the hhhhell,” Ymir walked up to the island, “Is going to buy five pizzas? That’s like fucking…fifty dollars.”

“Is not,” Connie said, “Fifty dollars for five pizzas is ridiculous price.”

“There’s five dollar pizzas,” Sasha said, “At that place.”

Ymir huffed, “If you go pick the gahdamn things up. We can’t drive.”

“I can drive,” Marco offered, “I have my license. I just got it.”

Jean patted him on the back, “Shh, you can’t drive. You definitely cannot drive.”

Marco sighed, nodding. He put an elbow on the able, propping his head up and smushing his face against his palm. He closed his eyes, and decided not to listen to the argument going on.

“Marc, I’m going in the living room for a minute, to ask about pizza money, okay?” Jean said to him at one point, and Marco made an affirmative noise without opening his eyes. It felt like an hour before Jean sat back down beside him, poking him in the sides until he ‘woke up.’

Sasha and Connie were debating something, Connie scratching his bald head as she scrolled through something on her phone. At some point, they were able to actually call the pizza place, after three wrong numbers.

“We want five pizzas,” Sasha said, loudly into the phone.

Connie leaned on the counter, trying to get her attention, “No, we want _all_ the _pizza_.”

Sasha ignored him, “Yes. We would like. Three cheese. And two…with pepperoni. Uhh…” She held the phone away from her, “Thick or thin crust?”

“Thin,” Ymir said just as Jean replied, “Thick.”

Sasha looked between them, “Okay, make half of the pizzas thin crust, and make the other half thick.” There was a moment where Sasha just stared at the counter in front of her, before saying, “Oh. Make. Uhh…make…two of them thin. And the rest thick. Yeah. Address? Ymir, what’s your address?”

Marco leaned forward, putting his head on his arms on the counter. He shifted a little in the stool, lolling his head to one side, and inhaling deeply. Napping was definitely a prevalent thought in his mind.

He _had not_ been sleeping when Jean shook him awake. He sat up, the movement feeling slightly sluggish.

“The pizza’s here,” Jean said, dragging him into the living room.

Krista had a pillow balanced on her head, sitting perfectly still beside Bert who had more or less remained in the same position. Armin and Mikasa had seemingly accomplished getting the scarf around both of them, and were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with it looped around their necks. Marco thought it looked semi-dangerous.

Connie was arguing with Ymir about something, while Reiner gave Sasha some money. The door was wide open, a particularly amused looking delivery guy standing outside. He was blonde with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, a small goatee on his chin.

Sasha handed him the money, and he had to open a couple different little pizza bags-Marco wondered what they were called before deciding it wasn’t important-to get all their pizza out.

Reiner was the one to take it, saying, “Hhhhell motherfucking yeah,” as he stacking them on top of one another. Marco’s mouth watered a little when he smelled them.

“You are the man,” Reiner was telling the delivery guy, “Hell yes. You’re the best.”

The pizza guy laughed, counting the money before nodding and telling them all to have a good time.

“That was nice,” Marco told Jean, “he was nice.”

Jean led him into the kitchen, and he sat down again. Jean stood beside him as everyone filed into the kitchen. He leaned on his elbow again, watching everyone fight over who got the first slices of the pizza. It did smell really good, but he figured he’d get some when everyone else got theirs.

He didn’t have to worry about it, though, because Jean put a plate in front of him. He sat down beside him, starting to eat his own pizza. Marco picked a piece up, holding it in front of him. Everyone got pretty quiet, as they were all stuffing their faces. Connie had two pieces on top of one another, and Reiner was putting an obscene amount of hot sauce on one piece while he ate the other. Even Bert had gotten up and was apparently just picking the cheese off his piece and eating that. And he was definitely making a mess.

After a minute, Marco heard Jean say to him, “Marco, are you gonna eat?”

Marco turned to look at him, before looking at the pizza, still in his hand. He nodded, “Yeah. I am, definitely gonna eat it.”

Jean laughed, picking up another piece from the box in front of them, “Okay, dude. If you don’t eat it soon, you’re not gonna get any more.”

“I will eat it,” Marco said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, “When I am good and ready.”

Jean and a couple other people laughed, and Marco did, indeed, take his time eating his pizza.

“This,” he said, after his first slice, “is the best pizza I’ve ever had. This is the best anything I’ve ever had.”

“You should put _hot sauce_ on it,” Reiner suggested, holding out the already half-empty bottle.

Jean scoffed at him, but Marco was really too busy eating to bother. It was _so_ _good_. He was having a come-to-Jesus moment with this pizza.

He ate four slices, even the crust when he usually hated the crusts. He would’ve eaten more, but by that time everyone else had eaten all of it.

“What time is it?” Jean asked, yawning.

Bertie was rubbing his eyes as he answered, “About eight thirty.”

Marco looked at him, because that couldn’t be right. He’d called his mom at around seven, and that seemed like four hours ago. He leaned down, putting his head on his arms.

“I’m tired,” Reiner announced.

Sasha laughed, “Lame.”

Reiner grunted, “You don’t work carpentry all fucking week, Sasha. Get outta my face.”

Ymir stretched, and draping her arm over Krista when she put her arm down-who slumped against her, “You can sleep on the couch if you wanna. You cannot fuck Bertie on my couch. Or anywhere else in my house.”

“I,” Bert started, “Am right here.”

“Well, good, that means you know, too,” Ymir said.

“Eren’s still asleep on the couch,” Armin said. He and Mikasa still had the scarf around them, though it was significantly looser even though Armin had his arms around Mikasa, “So we can sleep there. If that’s okay.”

Ymir pressed the palm of her hand into her eye, “God, we shoulda…worked out sleeping plans before this.”

“There’s two bedrooms,” Krista suggested, “That aren’t…that don’t belong to others. Belong to people that live here. Two spare bedrooms.”

“Okay,” Jean said, pointing at Armin and Mikasa, “They’re on the couch…Bert and Ernie can take one bed...then there’s me an Sash an Con and Marco.”

“You can say both decibels of Marco’s name but not mine?” Connie asked, “Wow.”

“It’s syllables, Connie,” Sasha told him.

“Can all four of you just…” Reiner made a vague circle motion with his finger, “Sleep in one bed?”

Marco was pretty sure he could sleep on the floor. But being in a bed sounded nice, too.

“Four people, in one bed?” Sasha asked.

“Connie’s small, and Jean’s skinny,” Reiner offered.

“Three teenage boys,” Sasha said, slower, “that are going to wake up tomorrow.”

“What else would they do?” Armin said, looking over Mikasa’s shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, “Hopefully they’d all wake up tomorrow, as opposed to, ya know, _dying_.”

Sasha pointed at him, “That’s not what I was getting at, ‘cause I think we all know the sun is not the only thing that rises in the morning.”

Marco giggled into his arms.

Jean made a _tsk_ noise, “Like you can’t deal with boners. I’m not sleeping on the floor, that’s _the_ only thing I know. Not sleeping on the floor.”

Connie crossed his arms, “I want to sleep beside Sasha.”

“Everyone knows, Connie,” Armin said, quietly, “Everyone knows.”

“Shut up.”

“Marco, what do you think?” Jean asked.

“I juss,” Marco said, sitting up, “I just wanna go to sleep.”

Making it up the stairs was a bit of a doozy for Marco, and Jean kept telling him to go faster, but he didn’t really want to _fall_. Everyone except Armin and Mikasa was going up the stairs, and the only ones behind him were Jean and Connie.

Krista showed them where the spare bedroom with the biggest bed was, and Marco would’ve really admired how nicely decorated it was if he wasn’t so tired. He didn’t care if he was in the middle or on the edge, he just wanted to sleep. There was a thought that this wasn’t exactly normal. Sixteen year old boys don’t usually share beds with other teenage boys, but he was going to be _that_ guy. Besides, no one else acted like it was a big deal and as of the moment he felt inclined to go with anything.

Sasha and Jean slept in the middle, it was somehow decided, and Connie got his wish of sleeping next to Sasha. Marco got in on the other side, next to Jean, and there was a couple moments of pushing and grabbing blankets before it was established everyone had enough room to sleep, even though they weren’t exactly completely comfortable. Connie was still complaining about having no room when Marco fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kickflips into trash
> 
> my url is still 420fubar hmu B))
> 
> thanks again for all the comments and nearly 100 kudos wtf this is amazign <33


	9. Nerds and Illegal Crotch Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dweebs wake up and have breakfast at Ymir's, Sasha needs a ride, and four of our little memes go grocery shopping.

When Jean woke up, Sasha had her leg thrown over his thighs, and Connie’s hand was in his face. He could hear someone snoring, and blinked his eyes as he got used to the light coming in through the window.

He pushed Connie’s arm toward him in annoyance, trying to shuffle out from under Sasha while trying not to bump into Marco’s back. He apparently didn’t do too good of a job because Sasha opened her eyes, her brows furrowed and makeup smudged in a way that made her look _beautiful_.

“Wake everyone the fuck up, why don’t you, Jean?” she hissed, punching him in the thigh.

That caused him to lose his balance and fall back on his ass, making Marco raise his head and look at the both of them. His hair was stuck up on one side, drool dried on the corner of his mouth. He squinted at both of them, and Jean made an apologetic face because he looked so annoyed and it was kind of adorable.

Jean thought about climbing over Marco but he probably wouldn’t appreciate that, so he crawled down the bed, hopping over the footboard. He tried to open the door quietly, because he knew it was probably obnoxiously early.

He went to the bathroom, appreciating how absolutely fantastic his bed hair looked. He tried to comb it forward with his fingers, which only half-worked. Jean rubbed his fingers down his face before he opened the door again. Marco was waiting to use the bathroom, still looking half-asleep as he shuffled by Jean.

He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was just after seven, which would explain why Sasha was so cranky. She usually slept in until at least noon on the weekends. He wasn’t at his own house so being the only one awake was kind of weird. He just went back in the spare bedroom and laid back down beside Sasha, taking a nap until it was a more active part of the day.

He woke up with his face in Marco’s hair, Sasha’s hand digging into his side as she pushed herself up. He shifted back a little, swatting out at her as she pushed on Connie until he woke up.

“wha time is it?” he asked, which everyone ignored.

Marco slid off the bed, rubbing his eyes again but looking more alert than a few hours ago. Jean got up after him, stretching his arms up and over his head.

They followed Sasha down the steps, as she was no doubt following the smell of breakfast. Armin and Eren were still asleep on the sectional, their heads both on the corner cushion while they were holding hands. Jean resisted the urge to throw something at Eren, instead following Sasha and Marco into the kitchen.

Krista, Reiner, Mikasa, and Ymir were all in the room. Krista and Reiner were the ones cooking, Reiner flipping a misshapen pancake while Krista was setting more toast on an already teetering stack. Bacon was frying in another pan, while Mikasa and Ymir seemed to just be watching them.

“Good morning,” Sasha said, much too loudly, “When will the food be done?”

“In a minute,” Krista said, smiling as she starting to poke at the bacon.

Jean sat at the bar, Connie hopping beside him. Marco stood to the side, his hand resting on the counter.

“How did everyone sleep?” Krista asked, looking over her shoulder like a mom would.

Connie rubbed his hands over his face, “I was about to fall off the bed the entire night.”

“Sasha and Connie were trying to dog pile on top of me, I think,” Jean said.

Sasha made a face, “Jean woke me up at like five in the morning because he had to move around and wake me up.”

“I had to pee!” Jean raised a hand, “What did you want me to do?”

“Not wake me up,” Sasha responded, “For one thing.”

“I slept very well,” Marco said, only looking at Krista, “Thank you for asking.”

Reiner let out a short laugh, “I like freckles. He’s not obnoxious in the morning like everyone else that just came down is.”

“I am not obnoxious,” Connie said, getting a disbelieving look from Reiner.

Jean let the insult slide, getting up to investigate the plates of food. There were only three sad little pancakes ready, burned in some spots and not in others.

“What the hell is wrong with those pancakes, Reiner?” he asked, picking one up, “These look really gross.”

“Shut up,” Reiner said, smacking him lightly with the hand not holding the spatula, “They were the first ones I made and I put too much oil in the pan.”

“We deemed them the sacrifice pancakes,” Ymir said, “They had to be made so the better pancakes could come forth.”

“Well,” Jean dropped the pancake he was holding, “I am not eating one.”

“You just touched it, you gotta eat it,” Ymir argued, walking up behind him and picking up the pancake. Jean was kind of stuck between Reiner and Ymir, so when she started to try to shove it in his mouth all he could do was try to back up and out of her gasp.

“Just eat it, Jean,” she said, literally shoving pancake at him.

“Fuck off, oh my gohhhnnn,” had she literally just put that entire pancake in his mouth.

It was gross, it was gross and not cooked through the middle and he decided to be particularly gross and spit it out in his hand.

“JEAN,” Sasha shrieked, “That’s disgusting! Oh my god, _throw it away_.”

“What, I didn’t even chew it,” he defended, holding it out to Connie, “it was pretty good, want some?”

“Sick, dude,” Connie made a face, shaking his head.

He threw it away, dusting his hands off over the trashcan.

“You were raised in a barn,” Sasha said as he stood beside her. She was obviously waiting for the food to be done.

“At least it wasn’t a trailer park,” Jean said, reaching up to cover his mouth as he went, “Ooooooh, burn.”

Sasha turned her head to look at him, and he didn’t expect her to straight up punch him in the ribs, “Shut up, you were my neighbor until you were fucking six years old. Fucker.”

He laughed, rubbing the sore spot on his ribs as he leaned into her shoulder, “Saash. Sash, ya love me.”

“No.”

“Sash.”

“Stop calling me that, you turd sniffer,” she said, pouting out her bottom lip. He laughed a little, crossing his arms.

It wasn’t long after that that Eren lumbered in, looking like a hot mess. He narrowed his eyes at everyone in the room, announcing, “I got up because Armin was laughing so hard about Sasha calling Jean a turd shitter.”

“I said turd _sniffer_ , oh my fucking god,” Sasha said, most of the people in the room starting to at least giggle. They all had a trash sense of humor, what could they say?

“Levi’s rubbing off on all of us,” Reiner said, wiping his eyes after his silent laughing.

Jean cackled, “Dear god, he is.”

“Does Levi go to our school?” Marco asked, which elicited another round of laughter.

Connie patted him on the shoulder, “Levi’s our… _little_ drug dealer.”

Marco’s mouth opened but then closed as that information sunk in. Sasha was struggling to contain her laughing as she said, “He’s really a good one, he’s rarely _short_ on pot to sell.”

“And he’s really great at staying on the _down-low_ ,” Connie added.

Sasha barked a laugh, continuing, “Be careful, though, because he’s got a short temper.”

“He supplied Gandalf with his pipe-weed on his way to take the ring to Mordor,” Connie said, making guns with his fingers and pointing them at Sasha. She started to laugh, doubling over.

“He’d kick your asses right now if he were here,” Eren murmured, reaching under his shirt to scratch his stomach as Armin walked into the kitchen, putting his arms around Eren’s arm.

“I know,” Sasha said, “he scares me. But he’s so petite, it’s adorable. Angry, mysterious drug dealer but he’s still so small.”

“He is not petite,” Eren said, “It’s just those fucking hoodies he always wears. He’s really muscular and I’m pretty sure it’s because he kicks everyone’s ass that calls him vertically challenged.”

“Eren sounds like he has a crush,” Jean crooned, grinning at the middle finger Eren directed at him.

“Is everyone downstairs?” Krista asked, “I think we have enough for everybody.”

“Bertl’s still upstairs asleep,” Reiner said, “Connie, can you go wake him up?”

Connie groaned, “Why do I have to do it? He usually kicks me.”

“He did that once because you were tickling him,” Reiner said, pointing the spatula, “If you want any pancakes, go wake my boyfriend up.”

Connie made a severely disgruntled face, standing and moping out of the kitchen.

By the time Bert and Connie came back down, Jean already had a plate and was struggling to not make a mess with his syrup. It was getting all over his bacon, too. Sasha also kept trying to steal his toast, and it was kind of pissing him off because he nearly dropped his plate twice.

“You’re so annoyinggg,” he whined, trying to turn away from her.

“Why don’t you two go sit at the fucking table,” Ymir suggested, even though she was just eating standing up with her plate on the island, “You’re going to drop your plate and fuck up my kitchen floor and make it all sticky and gross.”

“Fine,” Jean said, stepping away from his friend and moving into the dining room, where Marco was sitting beside Armin. He sat on the other side of his freckled friend, not interrupting whatever conversation they were having. Sasha sat down beside Bertl, which put her across from him. Connie took the end seat of the table.

Breakfast was rather uneventful, except that Sasha successfully stole half of his bacon.

“Hey, Jean,” she said, licking her fingers after eating the last piece of said bacon, “Can I ride home with you today?”

“I didn’t drive my car here, Einstein,” he answered, “I’m riding with Freckles.”

“Oh,” Sasha said, tapping a finger against her lips once before she put her hands on the table, leaning towards Marco, “Hey, Marc, can I catch a ride?”

“Hey, is there room for one more?” Connie asked, grinning.

Marco looked up from his pancakes, looking between the two as he chewed, licking his lips before saying, “Where do you guys live?”

“I was thinking of hanging out with Jean today,” Sasha told him.

Connie shrugged, “I was going to hang out with Sasha.”

“I was going to hang out with Marco,” Jean said, looking between all of them.

“So,” Marco said, drawing out the word, “Where am I driving?”

“Jean’s house,” Connie said, “and we can all hang out. Call Levi maybe,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I have to go to the grocery store before I even think about buying more pot,” Jean said, “I have to go to the grocery store regardless, I think, my apartment is running so low I ate crackers for breakfast Friday morning.”

“Is that why you stole my fucking burger at lunch?” Connie accussed.

Jean ignored him, “So, if you guys don’t mind, we can ride in Marco’s car to my house, get in my jeep, go to the store, then go back to my place and do something. If you want.”

“We could go to the grocery store in Marco’s car,” Sasha suggested.

“I mean, I have to go home anyway,” Jean said, “I don’t have any money on me.”

“That,” Sasha said, “Sounds really dumb.”

“If we go to the grocery store in Stohess, we don’t have to double back,” Jean reasoned.

Connie dragged his fork around in leftover syrup, “So, when are we leaving?”

“we can leave any time,” Marco said, “I should probably call my mom first.”

“Does she need to know you’re going to the grocery store?” Sasha scoffed.

Marco furrowed his eyebrows a little, “I mean, I guess not, but she thinks I slept over at Daz’s-“

“Daz? Bossard?” Jean wrinkled his nose, “I hate him.”

“Daz is okay,” Marco defended, “He was just the first person I thought of to say I was spending the night with.”

“Okay, back to the point,” Sasha tapped her nails on the table, “I say we hit the road.”

“You’re not driving,” Jean argued, “That’s kind of rude.”

“No, it’s fine,” Marco said, “It’s nearly lunchtime, I’m sure Ymir would like us out of her hair.”

Sasha pursed her lips, “It’s not lunchtime until I eat lunch.”

“So are we leaving?” Connie asked.

“We can,” Marco said, “It’s up to you guys.”

It was actually only about thirty minutes before they were all in Marco’s car. Jean yelled at Sasha for putting her shoes on the seats, and Connie was complaining about the radio station that was on, but they did make it to Jean’s apartment. At one point Sasha amused herself with brushing Jean’s hair in a fauxhawk type thing, and Marco tried not to say anything about none of them wearing seatbelts.

When they pulled into Jean’s apartment parking lot, Jean got out before Marco had even turned the car off, “Okay, I’ll just run and get my money, you guys don’t really have to go with me. It’ll take longer.”

He kind of felt bad for leaving Marco with Sasha and Connie, but he knew Sasha and they weren’t hard to get along with. It didn’t take him long to run up the stairs and unlock his door, and his money was just tucked under the playstation. After grabbing the keys, he was ready to go.

He relocked the door and took the steps two at a time, and hopped in the open driver’s seat of his Jeep.

“Hey, Jean,” Sasha asked, “When are you gonna let me drive?”

“No,” Jean responded, backing out and turning around. Sasha complained that didn’t make any sense and they argued about it well down the road.

“When we get out of the store,” Sasha said as they were all getting out at the parking lot, “I’m getting in the driver’s seat.”

“No,” Jean responded in the same tone, “You’re not. You didn’t even pass driver’s ed.”

Sasha nudged him with her elbow as they walked in the grocery store, one with sort of dim lighting and carts that squeaked and didn’t roll straight. Sasha grabbed one and started to push it in front of them all.

“So, Jeanny, what do you need?” Sasha asked, like she was running the operation.

Jean sighed and pushed her away from the cart, “Might as well go straight to the frozen section, cause that’s all I know how to cook.”

“You need cereal, don’t you?” Connie asked, “Or have you found a way to fuck up pouring milk in a bowl?”

Jean made a face at him, “Yeah, I need cereal.”

Marco followed Jean as he made his way down the aisle with the cereal, which was right beside the aisle with the cookies. Marco could hear Sasha and Connie arguing over what kind they should get.

“Does your mom give you grocery money?” Marco asked, “I don’t think mine trusts me enough for that.”

Jean scoffed, “No, I use my child support.”

“You have a child?”

Jean furrowed his brows, looking at him like he was slow, “Yeah, sure. No, I don’t have a fucking kid, Marco, the hell. My dad sends money every month to help out.”

“Aren’t they supposed to go to your mom?” Marco asked.

“Guess so,” Jean said, “But that’d probably be more relevant if she were around.”

“Where is she?”

Jean grabbed a box of cereal, raising an eyebrow at Marco and shrugging as he threw it in the cart. Marco closed his mouth when Jean didn’t add anymore to that. He was kind of wondering where Jean’s mom was, and wondering why Jean wasn’t living with his dad if she wasn’t there. He got distracted when Connie came up and slid a pack of cookies in the cart.

Jean laughed, taking them out, “Like hell I’m paying for these.”

Connie frowned, “Lame.” As he walked away, still holding the cookies.

“Hey Jean,” Sasha said, coming up with a bag of chips, “How bout it?”

“Why don’t you guys buy the food you’re going to eat before we even get back to my apartment?” Jean suggested.

“I have zero dollars,” Sasha told him, “What would you say if I told you I’d pay you back?”

“I’d call bullshit,” Jean responded, looking in the freezers for whatever frozen meal he felt like having this week. He took longer than necessary to choose between toaster strudels or waffles, but they eventually got to the checkout.

When he took his money out to pay, Sasha looked over his shoulder as he counted out the twenties for a week or two’s worth of groceries.

“Oooh,” she whispered, “he got money.”

Jean shook her off, telling her to help with the bags instead. He paid the cashier and followed Connie with the cart back to his jeep. Marco sort of fell back, grinning as Sasha pushed Jean out of the way and climbed in the driver’s seat herself.

Sasha waved him in, ignoring Jean pushing on her shoulder as he got in the passenger seat, “I am driving us home, Jean, you can take a seat in the back.”

“Sasha,” Jean complained, “Come on, dude.”

“Dude,” Connie said, sticking his head between the front seats, “Dude cmon, dude. Dude, cmon. Dude. Cmon. Cmon dude.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Jean reached past Sasha, to smack the other guy in the face but Connie fell back against his seat laughing.

“Okay, Sasha,” Jean insisted, “Go. You don’t even know how to operate at an intersection, I’d rather not die at seventeen.”

Sasha sighed overdramatically, climbing over the center console and accidentally kicking Marco in the arm. She barely apologized before Jean shut the door and cranked the car.

As they were pulling out of the parking lot, Sasha shoved a pack of cookies between Jean and Marco, “Want some?”

Jean took one, popping it between his teeth and chewing on it as he drove. Marco took one, too, asking, “I didn’t think you caved on the cookies.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Jean mumbled around the food in his mouth, “Especially this name-brand shit? Hell no, I’m not paying for that.”

“We _stole_ them, Marco,” Sasha said, trying to make her voice sound evil, “We _stole_ the cookies from the grocery store. Without paying. Like, illegally. These cookies are ours by illegal means. You just ate an illegal cookie.”

Connie put his face against the back of Jean’s headrest, “That makes you an accessory, Marco.”

Marco blushed, but he didn’t know why. He’d never stolen anything. One time he walked out of a dollar store without paying for something and cried until his mom took him back inside to pay for it. He remember being scared about going to jail as a seven year old who’d taken a pack of crayons by accident.

“Marco’s gonna call the cops on you two,” Jean said, “Turn us all in. His morals are too strong for illegal cookies.”

“I am not,” he defended, “It’s not a big deal. Where did you even hide them?”

“Connie’s pants,” Sasha said, “the pockets are like endless abysses of storage. We also have a can of chips, if anyone is interested. They’re ranch flavored.”

“Well, at least he didn’t stuff them down the front like that one time,” Jean said, “He nearly dropped them, and we all ate crotch candy for the movie.”

“Illegal crotch candy,” Marco corrected.

Jean nodded, grinning, “Yes, of course. Illegal crotch candy.”

Connie reached around and poked Jean in the cheek, “Yes, yes, great nostalgic times with illegal crotch candy and all, but what about some illegal mary jane.”

“Why are you always smoking the pot but never paying for the pot, Connie?” Jean asked, running a particularly close yellow light and making Marco grit his teeth just because of surrounding traffic.

Connie huffed from the backseat, “Because. Because my _friendship_ is payment enough. I also don’t have a job. I am but a poor, potless man, Jean.”

“Ooh, boo hoo,” Sasha imitated him, poking him in the ribs, “Boo-hoo, boo-hoo.”

“If you guys want, you can call Levi,” Jean said, “or text him or whatever. Tell him we’ll be home in a few minutes and that we have…15 dollars. And I expect somehow to get 10 dollars back from smurfs 1 and 2 in the back seat.”

Jean looked over at Marco, raising his eyebrows as he drove along a straight away, “That okay with you, Marco?”

“Hm?” Marco asked back, looking at his friend, “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry x134820394
> 
> this took forever im sorry im a weak baby and its not even that good forgive me padre for i have sinned
> 
> ill try to make the next one better shhh thank u all for the comments and kudos im sorry to all of u personally for not updating sooner. r.i.p. me


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